Vindicated
by clothsofheaven
Summary: Luna Lovegood sees things that other witches and wizards cannot. Is she crazy or is she right? The answer, dear readers, is for Harry and Draco to decide. Warning: Contains slash  Harry/Draco
1. Chapter 1

**Vindicated  
by clothsofheaven24**

ooo

Thank you, **Oliver** for being my beta and curing my bad case of writer's block. This story would not have been possible without you.

**Disclaimer:**

This story was inspired by the song Vindicated by Dashboard Confessional.

You all know that I don't own the Harry Potter characters (JKR does). But if I did, something like this would happen to them...

ooo

_The war is over. Hogwarts is rebuilt. Harry and his peers return to complete their seventh and final year of studies..._

ooo

Platform nine and three-quarters was packed with people surrounding the Hogwarts Express.

Smoke from the scarlet steam engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every colour wound between their legs.

Owls hooted in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and scraping of heavy trunks.

The first few carriages were already full with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, others fighting over seats.

Draco Malfoy stood removed from it all, measuring in his mind the distance he would have to walk to find an empty carriage. It seemed a long way.

He began to walk, pushing himself into a rapid clockwork stride. He dumped his trunk into the first empty carriage he found and slumped into the seat.

A group of curious first years peered into his compartment, struggling under the weight of their trunks.

"Keep moving," he spat at them, pretending to reach for his wand.

They gaped at him fearfully with wide eyes and mouths, and pushed their trunks away from him as quickly as they could manage.

Draco gave them another brief sneer before turning his attention to the window.

He felt the presence of another intruder before they spoke.

"Terrorising the first years already, Malfoy?"

"Mind your own fucking business," he retorted before turning to glower at them. His fierce expression fell from his face when he saw who it was.

Blaise Zabini stood in the doorway, a large grin on his face.

"You're not that impressive, you know," Blaise said, grin broadening. "That lot would be frightened by a Flobberworm."

Draco grinned back at him. "Especially if they were told it's a type of Flesh-Eating Slug."

Blaise laughed. "I'll be back in a moment," he said, dumping his trunk next to Draco's and hurrying after the group of first years.

ooo

"Have you guys seen Trevor?" Neville Longbottom poked his head into Harry, Ron and Hermione's compartment, desperately searching for his lost toad.

"Sorry, mate." Ron shook his head as he opened his fourteenth chocolate frog. "Damn, I got Morgana again."

Hermione was engrossed in her seventh year Transfiguration text book and Luna Lovegood could be heard handing out her father's magazine along the train.

"_Quibbler_! _Quibbler_!"

Harry sat in his own separate bubble of silence, letting the noise of the train wash over him.

It was as if the war had never happened. They had boarded the Hogwarts Express like they had done every year before, sat in the last available empty compartment and bought the same sweets from the trolley.

Harry even thought he heard some frightened first years scream down the other end of the train. The Slytherins were up to their old tricks already.

A small group of first and second year students peered into their compartment after Neville and stared openly at Harry.

"That's him," one of them whispered. "I can see the scar."

"Go on, ask him," said another. "Ask him for his autograph."

Luna suddenly joined them. Matching their astonished expressions, she looked quizzically at Harry. "You're red today, Harry. That's very strange."

Harry touched his face and looked at his arms in confusion.

Hermione put down her Transfiguration text book and looked at Harry. "You're not red," she confirmed.

"Yes, he is," said Luna, walking into the compartment and peering closely at Harry. "It's strange, because he is usually orange."

"What on earth do you mean?" Hermione asked. "He looks the normal colour to me."

Luna turned her attention to Hermione. "You're green," she said simply. "You've always been green."

Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at each other in shared bewilderment.

"Barking mad." Ron mouthed the words to Harry and Hermione before asking Luna, "What are you talking about?"

Luna turned to face him. "You're yellow."

"I'm what?"

"It's all here in this month's issue," Luna explained, handing him a copy of _The Quibbler_ and turning back to Harry.

"I don't understand why you are red now, Harry." She stepped closer to him, bending down to look at him carefully. "Perhaps it is only an overlay of red, which would make sense seeing as you have just experienced a life-threatening situation."

"Right," Harry said, still confused.

"Or perhaps you have turned red because you have a sudden strong physical need." Luna continued to ponder. "You should probably read this."

She handed Harry a copy of _The Quibbler_ before leaving the compartment. "Not to worry, I'm sure it will go away after you have sex," she added as an afterthought.

It was Harry's turn to gape. "What the hell was that about?"

"Like I said, barking mad." Ron held up his copy of _The Quibbler_. "Something about finding your aura colour."

Harry looked at _The Quibbler_ in his hands. The title page read:

**AURAS AND HEALING  
How to see the colours of the aura**

"Reds are physical and sexual. They love expressing themselves through their sensuality and their physical bodies," Ron read from the magazine. "What a load of rubbish."

"Sounds like something Professor Trelawney would be interested in," Harry agreed.

Ron widened his eyes and flailed his arms in a comical impression of the Divination professor. "Your aura is pulsing, my dear! Are you in the beyond?"

Harry laughed. Hermione rolled her eyes and resumed reading her Transfiguration textbook.

"Luna's right about you though, Hermione," said Ron, turning back to the magazine and reading. "Greens are some of the most powerful and intelligent people in the aura spectrum. Greens are extremely bright. They process information and ideas quickly."

"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione said, not taking her eyes away from her textbook. "Aura colours are complete and utter nonsense."

"I think they make sense."

Romilda Vane had appeared at their compartment door when they weren't paying attention.

Harry, Ron and Hermione regarded her apprehensively.

"Your condition sounds very serious, Harry." She entered the compartment, trying to look seductive. She stalked towards Harry. "I'd be happy to help. Luna said it would go away if you-"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake." Hermione threw down her book. "Get out!"

She shooed Romilda Vane out of the room, which promptly knocked several first years over in the process. They scurried away, looking embarrassed.

"I don't want to hear any more about this aura rubbish," Hermione snapped. "Harry's perfectly fine."

"I don't know. It may be serious. Maybe I have a red aura too," Ron said to her, looking hopeful. "Maybe you and I should-"

Ron was stopped from finishing his sentence, as Hermione's textbook levitated from its position on the floor and swiftly dropped on his head.

ooo

"What's the fucking point?" Blaise grumbled, thrusting a glass of Firewhisky into Draco's hand. They had retired to the Slytherin common room after an exceptionally long welcome feast. "Another year at this bloody school."

"We're nineteen years old," Gregory Goyle agreed, also accepting a glass from Blaise. "What use is another year of Charms class?"

"The rest of the school don't want us here anyway," Pansy Parkinson added. "Did you see the filthy looks the Gryffindors were giving me during the welcome feast?"

"To be fair, you did say we should just hand Potter over to Voldemort before the final battle," Blaise reminded her. He poured himself a glass of Firewhisky before handing the bottle to Pansy.

"Whatever. " She rolled her eyes before snatching the bottle. "Draco did worse than that and they're not paying any attention to him."

"Do you not read the paper?" Blaise asked incredulously. "Draco's innocent. He and his mother completely ruined Voldemort's chances several times. Isn't that right, Draco?"

Draco glared angrily at him in response. They'd already had this discussion without Pansy present. Blaise had been surprised and relieved. His friend wasn't going to Azkaban after all.

Pansy stared at Blaise in astonishment. "What are you talking about?"

Blaise promptly produced the _Daily Prophet_ and handed it to her.

The article had begun with a brief summary of Potter's achievements and then contained quotes from Potter himself. He thanked Granger and the Weasel for standing by him, paid tribute to the people who had died, and finally, at the very end of the piece, mentioned the small contribution the Malfoy family had in helping him achieve his objective.

He discussed the incident at Malfoy Manor, when he had been captured by Snatchers and taken to Lucius Malfoy.

_"Hermione disguised me by using a Stinging Jinx. Nobody could recognise me. They were unsure and didn't know whether to summon Voldemort or not. They didn't want to take any risks._

Instead, they called upon Draco Malfoy to look at me and verify my identity. He immediately recognised me. I could see it in his eyes. To my surprise, he didn't turn me in.

He was always on the evil side of things, but I always thought his heart was never really in it. His actions that day proved he wasn't for Voldemort. He just didn't have any other choice."

He went on to explain how Narcissa Malfoy had played a very important role. She had lied to Voldemort. She had checked Potter's pulse and told Voldemort he was dead when she knew he wasn't.

Draco continued to glare furiously at Blaise as Pansy read, taking small sips from his Firewhisky. He didn't want to talk about Potter right now.

He had read the article in the _Daily Prophet_ numerous times himself. His initial response to it had been bitterness, followed by relief, and then a kind of weary discomfort. What did this mean for him and Potter now?

He and Blaise knew why he hadn't revealed Potter's identity to the Death Eaters. It was partly to do with not wanting to support Voldemort, and partly to do with Potter himself. Draco had always behaved strangely when it came to Potter.

What they didn't know was why Potter had acknowledged Draco and his mother in such a powerful and deliberate way. Potter didn't just save them from Azkaban. He saved their reputation as well.

Draco hadn't spoken to Potter since the Final Battle, and after reading the article, he was unsure of how to proceed.

What was going to happen between them now?

The question kept him awake most nights, and when he did sleep he had clear, reminiscent dreams. He dreamt of strong hands grabbing him and pulling him out of burning fires. He dreamt of brilliant green eyes distorted by lumps of uneven skin. He dreamt of Harry Potter.

ooo

"TO HOGWARTS!" Seamus Finnigan called, raising his bottle of Butterbeer in an impromptu toast.

His fellow Gryffindors loudly parroted him, raising their bottles high before clinking them together messily.

Harry sat apart from it all, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He had had enough of that.

"TO HARRY!" Seamus continued his toast, and everyone turned to Harry, smiling and cheering.

Harry smiled weakly back at them. It was exhausting.

"You haven't got a drink," Dean Thomas said to him, before turning back to the group. "Will somebody get the saviour of the wizarding world a damn drink!"

Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown nearly knocked each other over trying to bring Harry a Butterbeer first.

He held both bottles in his hands apprehensively as they sat down next to him, their long legs folded on either side of him, flirtatiously pinning him in.

Harry didn't want Parvati or Lavender or any girl for that matter. What he wanted was peace.

He tried to get Ron's or Hermione's attention, but their eyes were locked on each other, Ron's blunder on the train clearly forgotten. Nothing could break their delighted absorption.

He briefly wondered if Ginny would help him, but Dean had made his way over to her after the toast. She made room for him on her seat, curving her leg so that her hip tightened in her little skirt. Dean put his big hand there.

Humbly Harry ducked his head. He searched for Neville or another ally who could join him, but they were all preoccupied.

"I'll open it for you, Harry."

Harry didn't trust Parvati's grin or the sultry way she said his name. He wished Ron or Hermione or Neville – anybody – would look over and excuse him.

While Parvati was busy with the bottle cap, Lavender edged closer to him, curving her plaint body inwards so that her thigh and hip and shoulder touched his.

Parvati glared at her in fury. She handed Harry the opened bottle, running her free hand across his back.

"You're tense," she said, moving behind him. "You need a rub."

She began massaging his back, pressing her chest into him as she did so.

"You're doing it wrong," Lavender protested, sitting up and pushing her out of the way. "I can do it better, Harry."

They had stopped touching him in order to rebuke each other. Harry seized the opportunity and moved away quickly.

He began to walk towards his dormitory, but was blocked by Romilda Vane.

Her hand found his shoulder and she looked up at him with wide, inviting eyes. "Going somewhere?"

It was late in the evening, the time when most people split off from the party in pairs to find more private and secluded areas.

"Just on my way to the bathroom," he lied, quickly changing course.

If the way to his dormitory was blocked, he would have to go out the portrait hole.

He swiftly grabbed another two Butterbeers from a nearby table as he made his exit.

ooo

It was just past midnight when Draco made his way down to the lake. Sleep had refused to come.

Draco welcomed the insomnia, seeing it as an excuse to sneak out of his dormitory into the warm spring night.

The light was liquid. The moon was sliced in half, but held a white, gleaming brightness.

The flowers which flanked the lake were silvered with it. The scent of blossoms, hot and pungent during the day, seemed more mysterious, more exotic, by moonlight.

The lake spread in a wide half circle. Draco sat in the grass by the water and ran his hands through his hair.

The sky was full of stars, silver against black. The lake whispered.

Footsteps. They crunched in the sandy dirt.

Draco looked up and saw the faint outline of another man.

Messy hair. Broad shoulders. Harry Potter. There was no mistaking him.

Looking at him, Draco remembered the feel of hard, wiry muscles, as he had clung to Potter on the broomstick.

_Damn Potter_, Draco thought, feeling a quick twinge. Only sappy Hufflepuffs and foolish Gryffindors find him attractive.

Because he felt vulnerable, Draco countered with bravado. He stood, took out his wand and glowered, a common reflex when it came to Potter.

Potter had stopped walking; one hand thrust into the pocket of his jeans, the other holding two Butterbeer bottles by the neck. He had recognised Draco immediately as well.

Surprisingly, Harry found he wasn't annoyed by Malfoy's presence. He had wanted to be alone, but now he welcomed the company.

Malfoy may have been unjust in the past. He may have been weak and resentful, but he had never been inconsistent. Harry always knew what to expect from him.

He laughed. "You're a bit late, Malfoy. The war is over."

"Force of habit, I guess," Draco replied, he pocketed his want, but kept a hard face. "The war may be over, but you're still enjoying the usual fame and glory. I saw your article in the _Daily Prophet_."

Harry laughed again and spoke sarcastically. "Yeah, it's been great. Half of my friends have died and I get forced to talk about it over and over again to complete strangers."

"If it was such a hassle," Draco asked, "why did you say all that about me? You didn't have to."

"I know I didn't have to." Harry sighed, turning away from Draco. He sat by the edge of the lake, crossing his legs and resting his elbows on his knees. "I was just telling the truth, Malfoy."

"It felt like you were doing me a favour." It was more of an accusation than a statement. With their history of hatred, the worst thing they could do to each other was give a favour. Malfoys were too proud after all.

"You did favours for me too." More accusations. "I know your recognised me at Malfoy Manor, I saw it in your eyes, but you didn't turn me in."

The memories made Harry tired. He opened one of his Butterbeers and took a long swig.

Draco sensed that he was losing Potter's attention. He didn't like that at all. He raised his voice and walked over to where the Gryffindor was sitting. "I panicked, Potter. It felt wrong to do it."

Draco was standing next to Harry. When Harry turned his hand he could see Malfoy's feet, facing him, demanding his concentration.

"I didn't think that you had a sense of right and wrong," Harry said, crueller than he meant to. He tried to remind himself that it wasn't Malfoy's fault. All of his life he had had to bend and conform the way his parents wanted him to. Harry knew the feeling. He had been forced to fit a pre-determined shape himself as the Chosen One. Nevertheless, it was hard to feel empathy for Malfoy.

"Don't talk like that. Don't talk like you know me. You don't know shit." Draco was angry, with a quick, defensive heat.

"How am I supposed to know?" Harry demanded, looking up at Draco and matching his anger. "All you've ever shown me is cruelty and resentment!" Harry knew Malfoy wasn't one dimensional. He knew there was more to him than what appeared on the surface, but he never saw it. How could he accept it if he never saw it?

"You haven't been so angelic yourself, Potter," Draco retorted. "I bled out in the bathrooms because of you."

"We bring out the worst in each other." Harry heaved another sigh. Malfoy was exhausting. Every exchange between them was full of raw intensity. Harry could handle it in the past. He would follow Malfoy and match his hatred because he had the energy for it. Now the war was over and he was tired. He just wanted peace. "I don't want to fight you anymore. Maybe we should just-"

Harry found that he couldn't finish his sentence. He looked at Draco imploringly.

Draco stared back, refusing to help him.

He wished Harry wouldn't look at him like that. It made strange feelings that he didn't understand or recognise build up in his chest. All of his energy went into appearing aloof.

"Take a break?" Harry suggested in the end.

Draco sneered at him. "You're becoming too weak to handle me, Potter. It must be humbling for you to admit it."

"Whatever, Malfoy." Harry took another sip of his Butterbeer. "You can go on fighting if you wish, but you will be fighting alone."

He turned away from Draco again, staring out across the lake.

Draco's mind underwent rapid adjustments. Potter was detaching himself from him. Draco didn't want that. He wanted to be close to Potter. The only way he had ever been able to achieve that in the past had been through animosity, which was no longer an option. He quickly changed tact, voice altering.

"I've never had the option of taking a break," he said softy. He sat down next to Harry, looking out across the lake as well. "From anything."

Harry didn't reply. He simply handed Draco his other Butterbeer.

Draco accepted it without a word and removed the cap.

They sat side by side, sipping from their Butterbeers, letting the novelty of silence seep over them.

From somewhere in the distance, they heard the soft thump of water splashing. The giant squid, Harry thought, and smiled. It would be quite an adventure to swim under the moon. He found himself removing his shoes and socks. He wiggled his toes.

Draco leaned forward and stared into the water. He saw the reflection of the moon, silvery white and radiant.

Their thoughts were the same yet separate. They realised it had been a long time since they had been able to enjoy the sound of silence.

Harry was constantly surrounded by news reporters and fans. He appreciated Ron and Hermione, but even they smothered him with too much love and attention sometimes.

Draco felt smothered also. Blaise was constantly bringing up the war and Potter. He didn't want to talk about it anymore. He was as exhausted as Potter. It occurred to him that Potter was as sick of everyone has he was.

"Where's Weasel and Granger?" he heard himself ask.

"In the common room," Harry answered, keeping his gaze in front of him. "They'll be busy with head boy and head girl stuff this year," he added.

Draco smirked. "So they'll be busy giving each other head?"

The moonlight played on Malfoy's skin, and Harry enjoyed it. He chuckled. "Something like that."

They were both suddenly wearing matching smiles.

Draco felt Harry's gaze shift from the lake to him. "What?"

"I've never seen you smile like that before."

"Like what?"

"Properly."

It was Draco's turn to chuckle. "I never really had reason to," he said. "Even as a child. We were forced to grow up so quickly."

Harry nodded in agreement and they fell into silence again.

Draco began to run his fingers through the water. He accidently lifted his hand away too quickly, and made a small splash.

Some droplets of water from the splash landed lightly on Harry's face. It felt cool and refreshing. Harry reached forward and flicked a small amount of water at Draco. He was beaming again.

Draco looked surprised and wiped the water off his face. He leaned over the edge and splashed a large amount at Harry.

"You'll pay for that, Malfoy," Harry said, shaking with laughter. He was standing up now. He glided both of his hands in the water and pushed the resulting wave onto Malfoy. His pants and shirt front were completely soaked. Harry laughed harder. He knew how important appearances were to the Slytherin.

Draco was shocked, but recovered quickly.

"You've done it now, Potter," he said, lunging forward and pushing Harry over the edge of the lake.

Thinking fast, Harry grabbed Malfoy's leg as he fell. They both landed in the water with a large, loud splash.

Harry gasped for air as he resurfaced. Water had gone up his nose and he had lost his glasses. Malfoy was nothing but a blur. He reached forward and grabbed at Malfoy, not knowing where his hands were landing.

His hands ended up on Malfoy's chest, which shook with laughter. "I've got your glasses here, four eyes." He held the glasses forward for Harry to take.

Harry went to take the glasses, but due to his poor vision he missed. His hand grazed Malfoy's cheek instead. He was surprised at how soft the blond's skin was. Malfoy always appeared so hard and tough.

Draco attempted to help Harry, trying to fit the glasses on his face. Harry noticed that he was fumbling.

He reached up to help Draco place them properly. Somehow his hands ended up on top of the other man's. He noted how the skin on Malfoy's hands was as soft as the skin on his face.

When Harry's glasses were steady and when Harry's vision had returned, they stepped away from each other, their playful water fight forgotten.

Draco leaned against the edge of the lake and Harry propelled himself backwards in the water.

"This feels weird," Harry said, moving his hands around in the water around him. "Swimming with so many clothes on." He felt like he had been ship wrecked.

"It does," Draco agreed. He pulled his shirt off over his head. It landed with a soft slapping noise on the bank of the lake.

Harry followed suit. The water was cold on his bare chest, but his skin relished in it. He felt relaxed and completely energised at the same time.

He swam over to where Draco was leaning, and went to throw his shirt next to his on the bank. It landed on Draco's head instead.

Harry cringed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"You're in for it now, Potter," Draco growled. He tossed Harry's shirt aside and dived under the water.

Harry stood uneasily, looking around the water and waiting for Draco to resurface. He felt a firm hand pull at his leg. He overbalanced and fell under the water.

Harry quickly pushed himself to the surface, his sudden breathlessness making him dizzy. When he broke the surface he was standing directly in front of Draco. Their noses were millimetres apart.

Draco's sharp eyes had softened and appeared depthless. The change made Harry's lips twitch. He felt a heavy throbbing in his chest. His heart had started beating very fast. He clasped Draco's shoulders and attempted to push him under the water.

Draco didn't budge. He stood strong, feet firmly planted to the spot. He smirked and looked challenging at Harry.

Harry lifted himself up higher, still attempted to push Draco under the water. It didn't do much good. His hands slipped on Draco's wet shoulders.

Draco remained strong. He caught Harry with his arms, preventing him from falling into the water. Harry found himself moulded against a solid, muscular chest.

Draco's body was tempting now that Harry had time to appreciate it. The scent of the lake rose to surround them, and heat - such a furnace heat that seemed to come from within and without at the same time.

Draco looked down at Harry as Harry looked up at him. Their mouths closed over each other's, hot and stunningly sweet.

Almost leisurely, they explored each other's mouths. Harry's heart beat wildly against the quick, steady beat of Draco's.

As the kiss deepened, Draco nibbled at Harry's lips as if he would draw out more taste. Slow, easy. His tongue tempted Harry's then retreated, then slipped through his parted lips again to torment and savour. For a moment, Harry feared he would faint in Draco's arms.

"You've really done it now, Potter," Draco murmured against his lips.

Harry pulled away from him. "I have not. You kissed me!"

Draco scoffed. "I hardly think so, Potter. You grabbed my shoulders. You practically threw yourself at me."

"I was only trying to push you under the water," Harry protested. "_You_ grabbed _me_ with your arms."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "I only did that to stop you from attacking me!"

"You're mad. And you're madder still if you think I'm taking all of the blame for this." The temper in Harry's voice was cold, coated with control. "I'm leaving."

"No." Draco swung out his hand to stop him, catching his wrist.

"I said I didn't want to fight you anymore, Malfoy." Harry pulled his wrist from Draco's hand with a sharp jerk. "We should just forget it ever happened."

He turned and climbed out of the lake. He began to walk back towards the castle.

Draco watched him until he was swallowed by darkness.

What did this mean for him and Potter now?

_**To be continued**_

ooo

Please review!

Many thanks to the wonderful readers who have reviewed my stories so far. Your encouraging and helpful words are my strongest inspiration.

Much love,

Lucy :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Vindicated **

**by clothsofheaven24**

**Disclaimer:**

This story was inspired by the song Vindicated by Dashboard Confessional.

You all know that I don't own the Harry Potter characters (JKR does). But if I did, something like this would happen to them...

ooo

Harry sat across the table from Ron and Hermione in the Great Hall, his chin resting on one hand. Breakfast at the Gryffindor table was the usual loud, rowdy affair.

He felt dizzy. It was as if a time turner had taken him back to the years before Voldemort's reappearance, before the war had cut in and interrupted their lives.

His thoughts from the Hogwarts Express returned to him. _It's as if it never happened. It's as if nothing has changed._

He reached for a plate of toast and then stopped himself.

One thing had changed. He had kissed Malfoy – or Malfoy had kissed him. Either way their relationship had rapidly changed.

They had made adjustments to it, which caused the balance to go off and make what they had rebuilt fall down and confuse him.

He reached for the plate again.

"Hiya Harry!"

Through the din of scraping knifes and clicking plates and loud, boisterous chatter, he thought he heard Colin Creevy's voice, interrupting him at breakfast like it always did.

He stopped and looked around.

Nothing.

It forced Harry to notice another change. It hit him hard and he felt a resulting burn in his belly.

Breakfast at the Gryffindor table had changed because Colin Creevy and his camera were no longer there.

The sound of hooting and flapping wings as the morning post arrived briefly distracted him from his thoughts.

He reached for the plate yet again. Hedwig would want something to eat.

His hand froze has he was hit with the acknowledgement of another change.

Hedwig wouldn't be bringing him any mail this morning. She wouldn't even be flying in to peck at the breakfast on his plate.

Hedwig was dead.

Colin Creevy was dead.

Professor Lupin, Tonks and Sirius were dead.

They had lived and known glory, and then they were dead. Harry was alive and they were not, and nothing but a heartbeat separated him from them.

Like so many plain plates on the table you can reach for them, use them without thinking. Most of them don't matter. Sometimes you lose your grip on one of them and it falls and smashes to pieces. You shrug and say to yourself, what a pity.

Then you reach for a plate that you use every day. It is one that you love and use so often that as you stretch out your hand it is already making the shape that fits its curve. You are certain that yesterday it was in its proper place, but now there is nothing. There is just air.

You have lost something that was so familiar, so much a part of your life that you were not even looking for it. You were just expecting it to be there as always.

He recognised now that his life had changed, but not in a wonderful and happy way like everyone else's.

Their broken hearts had healed. Maybe the cracks were still there, like thin scars, but they were healed. People lived and worked, laughed and ate, walked and talked with those cracks. For many, even the scars healed and they loved again.

Hermione scooped a large amount of scrambled eggs onto Ron's plate and smiled at him. He smiled back and they stared at each other.

Their moment was shattered when something dark and dirty landed with a soft splat on Ron's plate. Scrambled eggs exploded onto the table and into Hermione's and Ron's laps.

"Here's your shirt, Potter," Draco Malfoy drawled from behind them, sneering across the table at Harry. "You forgot it last night."

Harry blinked at him, his thoughts still elsewhere.

Ron was standing, shouting something. Hermione joined him.

"That's not Harry's," Ron yelled. He picked the shirt up and threw it back at Malfoy. More scrambled eggs went flying.

Malfoy simply shrugged as the shirt hit his chest and then fell to the floor. "I didn't realise that you knew every single item of clothing that Potter owned, Weasel. Bit possessive of him, are you?"

"Shut up," Ron spat at him. He withdrew his wand from his robe and pointed it at Malfoy's face.

Malfoy hooted with laughter. "I suppose you can't be too possessive of him. You don't even know where he was last night."

"He was in the common room," Ron said, bitterness aching his throat. He didn't like what Malfoy was suggesting. "Nowhere near you, you evil prick."

"Ron," Hermione murmured, warning him. "The professors will see."

Ron ignored her.

Harry was in his bed when Ron had woken up this morning. As far as Ron knew Harry had attended the party in the common room and then retired to their dormitory to sleep. He had not been anywhere near Malfoy. He had been safe. _We are all safe now_.

Malfoy was suddenly a threat again, trying to sever the thick cords of security and friendship that he and Hermione and wrapped around Harry. They had come close to losing him. They wouldn't let it happen again.

Malfoy smirked at him. "You should listen to your woman, Weasel. You could wind up in a lot of trouble."

More threats.

Ron squared his shoulders and stepped forward, poking Malfoy in the chest with his wand. "You'll be the one in trouble of you don't leave Harry alone."

"I was leaving him alone," Malfoy said, the wand prodding his chest not bothering him. "He was the one who disturbed me."

"That's bullshit, isn't it Harry?" Ron asked Harry without turning his head.

Harry came to his senses at the sound of his first name.

Malfoy was there to punish him for what had happened last night. He knew that if Ron and Hermione found out about their encounter they would never let Harry hear the end of it.

"Put your wand down, Ron," Harry said, standing also. "It's over. We don't want to fight anymore."

"He started it," Ron growled, wand still pressed against Malfoy's chest. "He accused you of following him again. That shirt can't be yours."

Harry's eyes trailed from Ron's shoulder, to his hand, to his wand, to Malfoy's chest.

He remembered how his chest had felt. Wet, but warm. Hard, but soft.

He remembered leaving the lake in a huff after their argument about the initiation of their kiss.

His eyes left Malfoy's chest and looked at the floor. His shirt lay crumpled and covered in eggs.

"It's mine," he confirmed.

Ron whipped around, dropping his wand and gaping at Harry in shock. His voice shook as he made the connections. "You were with Malfoy last night with your shirt off?"

"Calm down, Ron." Hermione stepped in again.

"He was with Malfoy last night with his shirt off!" Ron shouted at her before turning back to Harry. "YOU WERE WITH MALFOY LAST NIGHT WITH YOUR SHIRT OFF!"

People at the Gryffindor table were staring at them now. Their knives and forks were paused mid-meal over their plates.

"Merlin, you're slow on the uptake, Weasley," Malfoy said, his voice dripping with malice.

Ron didn't appear to hear him. He was still putting the evidence together in his mind. The pieces jarred like misshapen jigsaw pieces against each other.

"That means - that means -"

"It doesn't mean anything," Harry denied him. "I went swimming in the lake, Malfoy was there and we had an argument. I stormed off forgetting my shirt."

Ron visibly relaxed, but Hermione looked doubtful.

"Why were you at the lake?" she asked him. "What did you have an argument about?"

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but was saved the hassle of embellishing the truth again. Luna Lovegood had arrived at the table. She obliviously caused a distraction.

"You're much more red today, Harry," she said. "It's hurting my eyes a little bit."

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Malfoy looked to her in confusion.

The Gryffindors, familiar with Luna's fascination with eccentric topics, returned to eating their breakfasts.

"You're very red too." Luna had turned her attention to Malfoy. She looked pensive. "You are usually orange, but now you are red."

She looked to Harry and then back to Malfoy again. "The same as Harry."

"No, Luna," Ron disagreed, reaching down to pick up his wand. "Harry and Malfoy aren't anything alike."

Malfoy was laughing, but Luna kept her gaze on him, unperturbed. "It appears that there is a strong physical and emotional connection between you, but the intensity of your auras suggests that you are having difficulty accepting and exploring your compatibility."

Her face was soft with thoughtfulness, but the others were rigid and stiff, their previous dispute still vibrating around them. "I remember when Ron and Hermione were experiencing the same problem. If you don't go after what you want, you'll never have it. If you don't ask, the answer is always no. If you don't step forward, you're always in the same place."

She paused, sighing sadly, "It's such a pity that when we grow up, we lose the talent for loving without restrictions."

She stared at Malfoy for a few more moments before returning to the Ravenclaw table.

There was a brief, awkward silence.

"That girl doesn't have the sense Merlin gave a retarded Squib," Malfoy eventually quipped.

"How dare you-"

Ron had pointed his wand at Malfoy again the second he retrieved it from the floor.

"Don't bother, Weasley," Malfoy said, interrupting him. "I'm leaving. You'll probably want to wash the dirt and shame out of your shirt, Potter. I know I did."

He shot a menacing look at Harry before departing.

"He's up to something," Ron said, watching Malfoy walk away. "What happened last night exactly?"

"I couldn't sleep," Harry replied. "I went down to the lake and decided to swim. Malfoy showed up and we argued. I left before it got too much. I was a bit mad though, that's why I forgot my shirt."

Technically innocent, but the smooth surface of honesty was so undetermined with the burrowing of despair and deceit that it had to collapse soon.

Ron seemed to believe him, but Hermione looked doubtful again.

"Why was Malfoy there?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know."

"Do you think he followed you there?"

Harry didn't look at them. He reached for a piece of toast and bit into it before repeating, "I don't know."

"I don't trust him," Ron said, eyes still on Malfoy's retreating back. "You have to be careful, Harry."

Harry nodded in agreement to avoid furthering the discussion. He didn't feel comfortable talking to Ron and Hermione about Malfoy.

He didn't mistrust Malfoy anymore, as strange as it felt admitting it to himself. They had shared a significant encounter at the lake. They hadn't talked much, but Harry had the feeling that unspoken negotiations had taken place.

He liked having Malfoy's company during their short-lived moment of understanding. He had more than liked the look and feel of Malfoy's hard, muscular chest and the taste of his hot, sweet mouth. The realisation made the burn in his belly amplify.

He took another bite of his toast and attempted to appear at ease. Ron began to pile scrambled eggs onto a fresh plate, but Harry could feel Hermione's piercing eyes on him.

She knew that he was hiding something from them.

ooo

It was cold in the dungeons when Draco arrived for his first class of the day. He was looking forward to his Potions double and arrived in the classroom early.

He had made a big mistake last night. He had let Potter kiss him – or he had kissed Potter. Either way he decided to, as Potter said to him, forget about it.

He discarded its memory the instant he discarded Potter's shirt. As an added bonus, he had gotten revenge on Potter in doing so.

Weasley had a fit and Granger looked dubious. They were probably still interrogating Potter about the incident now.

Only a handful of other students were in the Potions classroom when Draco entered. He chose a workstation at the front of the room and began to set up his equipment.

"You just can't help yourself, can you?"

Blaise had arrived, his book bag slung casually across one shoulder and an all-knowing look on his face.

"What are you talking about?"

Draco only looked at him briefly before returning to his apparatus.

"I saw you over at the Gryffindor table this morning."

"What of it?"

Blaise placed his book bag on the floor and retrieved his own Potions equipment.

"Potter saved your arse with that article in the _Daily Prophet_ and you still treat him like shit."

"You can't possibly have known what I was saying to him," Draco said, not looking at him. He noticed a small smudge on his caldron. He located a cleaning cloth from his Potions kit and tried to wipe it off.

"I've spent almost half my life watching you and Potter fight. I can notice it a mile off."

Blaise left his apparatus only half assembled and walked over to Draco. He stood close.

"You threw something, threatened him and insulted his friends. What is wrong with you?"

"There's nothing wrong with me. This is how it has always been," Draco replied simply, leisurely wiping away the offending caldron stain.

"Potter extended the hand of friendship to you. I don't recall that ever happening until now."

"He doesn't want friendship. He just wants to be left alone." Draco's arm movements became faster and slightly ferocious even though the smudge had been completely wiped away. He still didn't want to talk about Potter to Blaise. He wanted to be left alone also.

"Then why are you still bothering him?" Blaise grabbed at his arm and pulled him away from the workstation, demanding Draco's full attention. "I think you've gotten all of that stain off now."

Draco huffed in annoyance, but didn't resist. He gave Blaise what he wanted and looked at him directly in his eyes. "Habits are hard to break, I guess. Plus, it's fun."

Blaise chuckled and took a step back, contemplating something amusing. "Childhood never really leaves us."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Draco huffed again. He was getting tired of Blaise's elusiveness. He clearly thought that he had noticed something Draco had not. He was going to tell Draco eventually, but first he wanted to enjoy the power of knowing something another didn't.

"You're a little eight-year-old boy and Potter is the girl you like. You go around pulling his piggy tails in a desperate attempt to get his attention."

Draco gave him a scornful look before turning back to the workstation. He began to look for his Potions textbook in his bag.

"I get it. I get it. You're in denial," Blaise continued. "But you'll never have him if you don't let go of your pride and stop tormenting him. I realise that this would be a very difficult thing for you to do."

Draco's ego was a huge and fragile thing. Blaise always envisioned it as an enormous penis made of thin glass. Draco wouldn't even let his own feelings get in its way. Blaise was determined.

"He's an attractive guy. Plus, he saved everyone from Voldemort, so he's kind of a big deal. If you don't act soon someone else will beat you to it."

At that moment, Potter, Weasley and Granger entered the classroom. Weasley directed them to a workstation at the back of the classroom, looking at Draco disdainfully as he did so.

Draco noticed them, Blaise could tell, but he pretended that he didn't. Blaise could also tell that Potter was trying his best to not look in Draco's direction and failing miserably. Granger seemed aware of this as well.

Professor Slughorn arrived shortly after the Gryffindor trio.

"My word!" he exclaimed. "You are all so early."

He beamed happily at the students before him. "As they say, the early bird gets the Flobberworm. You may have a head start before the others arrive."

He gestured to his desk at the front of the room where two caldrons had been placed.

"You will be required to make two Potions today. Don't be intimidated by their level of difficulty. They may appear in the practical examination for your NEWTs."

He indicated to the first caldron. "The first is Amortentia. It is the most powerful love potion in the world and smells differently to different people depending on what attracts them. You may remember it from your sixth year."

"Mandrake Draught is the second potion I would like you to make today," he said, pointing to the second caldron. "It is a powerful antidote that will revive people who have been petrified."

"The instructions can be found on pages 99 and 111 in your textbooks," he added before inviting the students to examine the examples before they began.

Draco stepped forward with Blaise.

The Mandrake Draught looked easy enough and because he was early he would be able to select the most mature Mandrakes from the ingredients cupboard for his potion.

He was already familiar with Amortentia. He remembered it clearly from his sixth year, but he still paused in front of it anyway.

It had a distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen and steam rose from its caldron in characteristic spirals.

The scent that greeted him was hot, pungent and mysteriously familiar. It smelt intoxicating.

It made his heart beat faster and his head feel lighter. His breathing got heavier also.

"It smells like Potter to you, doesn't it." Blaise whispered. It was a direct statement, not a question.

Draco snapped his head to the side, looking at him. "Get real," he hissed back.

He stormed back to his workstation, purposefully slamming his shoulder into Potter, who was making his way to the front of the room with Weasley and Granger, as he did so.

Blaise kept a watchful eye on Draco for the remainder of the lesson. He didn't realise until the end of the lesson, when he was returning his leftover ingredients to the storage cupboard, that Granger was keeping a similar eye on Potter.

More interesting still, she was also watching Draco carefully as well, her lips pursed and forehead furrowed.

Blaise smiled to himself, realisation dawning on him. _Granger knows_ _something_.

He had a strong feeling that it had something to do with Draco and Potter, and he would stop at nothing to find it out.

_**To be continued **_

_Please review!_

_I am also on the lookout for someone to beta the oncoming chapters. I would really like to find someone who is good with spelling and grammar. If you are interested, please send me a private message via this site. :) Lucy_


	3. Chapter 3

**Vindicated **

**by clothsofheaven24**

ooo

Thank you, **Oliver** for being my beta and curing my bad case of writer's block. This story would not have been possible without you.

**Disclaimer:**

This story was inspired by the song Vindicated by Dashboard Confessional.

You all know that I don't own the Harry Potter characters (JKR does). But if I did, something like this would happen to them...

ooo

Blaise knew he would find Hermione Granger in the library after the last class of the day. Slughorn had set a large essay of two rolls of parchment on the properties and effects of Amortentia for homework.

There were hardly any other students in the library when he entered, as it was only the start of term. Most students had retired to their common rooms before dinner. Some had wandered outside to sit and gossip on the grass.

Granger was sitting alone at the far end of the library. Potter and Weasley had obviously decided not to join her.

Her desk was a compact, informal library in itself. Books stood or were stacked in piles on the floor, sat on the desk like knickknacks and trooped around her like soldiers.

They struck Blaise as more than knowledge or information, even more than entertainment or stories. They were colour and texture in a haphazard yet somehow intricate decorating scheme.

She didn't notice him approach her. Her head was bent close to her parchment as she feverishly wrote. He had to speak to get her attention.

"Hello, Granger."

Her head snapped up. She stopped writing, but her quill remained poised over her parchment. She regarded him apprehensively. "Hello, Zabini."

"Quite a collection you've got here," he said, examining the books more closely.

Frowning at him, she watched his perusal of her space. "No, I haven't read them all and I won't be using every one for my essay."

She answered the questions before he was able to ask. She was used to people inquiring about her unusual study habits.

"Let me just ask this," Blaise replied. "Have you left any books on the subject for anyone else?"

"Sure, but I need a lot of them in front of me. If I don't have twenty or thirty books right here waiting to be read, I can't get started on my work. It's my compulsion," she explained before indicating to a small stack of books on her right. "I suppose you can take these if you want."

"No thanks." Blaise shook his head. "I'm not here to start Slughorn's essay."

"Okay then," she said, disregarding him and turning back to her work.

Blaise didn't move. When she realised he was still there she looked up at him, becoming agitated. "Can I help you with something else?"

He wasn't an enemy, not like Draco had been, but he was still in unfamiliar and unwelcome territory.

"Yes, you can," he answered, taking the seat opposite her.

She watched his movements carefully, slightly shocked by them. "If it's to do with those ridiculous requests for a new student uniform or a back to school dance, you needn't bother. Professor McGonagall won't go for it anyway."

She had been looking forward to her Head Girl duties. To her disappointment, most of it involved dealing with unreasonable requests from the student body.

The library was her sanctuary. She didn't think that anyone would bother her here, especially if she piled her books up high around her.

Blaise Zabini was obviously determined. He saw past her camouflage and ignored her subtle hints for privacy.

Noticing the impatient look she gave him, Blaise clarified, "It's about Draco and Potter."

"What about them?" she asked, clearly suspicious of him.

"I think you know more about it than I do," was Blaise's enigmatic answer.

"I don't _know_ anything," she huffed, becoming more impatient.

"But you sense something," Blaise said, sounding a bit too eager. "I saw the look on your face in Potions today."

Hermione stared at him in disbelief. _What is he suggesting?_

She had the sense that something different was going on between Malfoy and Harry. The evidence she had seen attacked all of her senses.

The dirty t-shirt, the sidewards glances, the article in the _Daily Prophet_.

It was a tangled ball of secrets and denial. Ron had come close to unravelling it, but in the end he believed what Harry had told him. He believed what he wanted to be true.

Hermione saw Harry's explanations for what they really were, embellishments of a new and terrifying truth.

Harry had left Gryffindor Tower last night. Hermione didn't know whether it was to meet Malfoy or to simply get away from all of the noise and attention. Either way they had found each other at the lake.

Harry said there had been an argument. There probably was. They would have argued for awhile and then stopped somehow. In her mind she could see their anger fading, turning into a different emotion altogether.

Harry's shirt was removed by either himself or Malfoy. The thought of it astounded her and bred into a new image.

Their clothes seemed to disappear and their arms and legs entwined. Their mouths greedily fastened together and their bodies blurred and became one.

She dropped her quill and looked into Blaise's eyes, trying to discern his motives. When she didn't reply, Blaise explained himself further.

"I don't know what is going on between them, but like you I sense something," he said, matching her direct gaze so that there would be no misunderstanding.

"What is it that you sense exactly?" she asked, still unsure of his trustworthiness.

"I sense that there is something they want, have wanted for some time, but they don't know what to do about it."

He was being too elusive and it agitated her. She wasn't going to admit anything to him until he gave her something first.

She didn't speak. She sat back in her chair looked at him expectantly.

He tried again.

"I know that Draco acts like he hates Potter, but that's all it is, an act. He's been barmy for him ever since I could remember. As for Potter, I always thought that he truly despised Draco, but then he saved him from that fire and said all of those things about him to the _Daily Prophet_, and now they are acting very strangely towards each other. I saw it this morning at breakfast and I saw it in Potions. I noticed the expression on your face. You saw it too."

Hermione sighed. He had the same thoughts as her, but he had revealed new information as well. Did Malfoy really like Harry in _that_ way? She was slightly convinced based on the evidence.

"It didn't even occur to me that something was going on between them until Malfoy returned Harry's shirt this morning."

Blaise gaped at her. "He what?"

"Didn't you know?"

Blaise shook his head and Hermione was surprised. She told him everything that had taken place. "Harry said that he went swimming in the lake last night and they ran into each other. Supposedly, they had an argument and Harry stormed off, forgetting his shirt."

"That doesn't add up," Blaise said, trying to overcome the shock of this new information.

"I know," Hermione agreed. "I could tell he was lying."

"Do you think they...?" Blaise trailed off, sounding hopeful.

"I am not sure," she answered. "I think they would have come close though."

"Well, whatever happened, they are back to fighting with each other."

"Harry won't argue with Malfoy anymore. He said that he is over the fighting."

"Draco is ignoring Potter too," Blaise said. "Well, he is_ trying_ to ignore him. We should do something."

She laughed at him. "What on earth do you mean?"

"They need help. They're both too proud to admit their feelings."

"I'm not into crafty Slytherin schemes," she refused him. "I don't want Harry to get hurt."

"He will get hurt if we don't do anything," Blaise tried to reason with her. "It can't be good for them to stay in denial like this forever."

There was a brief silence, during which Hermione appraised what Blaise had said.

The statement had hit her personally, as it reminded her of how long she and Ron had overlooked their feelings for each other.

_If you don't go after what you want, you'll never have it. If you don't ask, the answer is always no. If you don't step forward, you're always in the same place._

She remembered what Luna said and realised that she wanted Harry to move on. She recognised that he had tried to do it himself with the article in the _Daily Prophet _and his refusal to indulge Malfoy with their petty arguments any longer, but he still remained stuck.

It was clear to her that he was unhappy. It was also clear to her that part of his unhappiness stemmed from Malfoy. She began to seriously consider what Blaise was suggesting.

"How do I know that I can trust you?"

Blaise chuckled. He understood her trepidation. Her resentment towards Malfoy had leaked onto him. "I know, I know, Draco and I are Slytherin bastards. How about we make a deal?"

"If it turns out you are full of shit, you'll have five months worth of detention helping Hagrid." She was quick to answer. It made Blaise smile.

"Taking advantage of your Head Girl authority," he mused. "That's very sneaky of you, Granger. Perhaps you belong in Slytherin."

She shuddered at the thought and changed the subject. "What did you have in mind for Harry and Malfoy?"

Blaise's smile turned mischievous. "You said something before about a request for a back to school dance..." he trailed off again.

"I already told you that Professor McGonagall won't go for it. What does it have to do with Harry and Malfoy anyway?"

"I know Draco extremely well. He is very predictable," Blaise explained. "If you can use your position as Head Girl to talk McGonagall into throwing a back to school dance for the students, I can take care of the rest."

"What exactly are you planning, Zabini?" she asked suspiciously, eyes narrowing.

"Trust me, Granger," he assured her, rising from his seat and holding out his hand for her to shake. "I don't want to spend five of my last months at Hogwarts on detention."

"Harry's my best friend," she replied, taking his hand and shaking it. "If he gets hurt, you'll have a lot worse than detention to deal with."

"Hurting him is not my intention." He swiped his finger in an X over his heart. "I swear."

"Then we understand each other," she said, looking satisfied. She picked up her quill and went back to writing her essay. "I'll speak with Professor McGonagall before dinner."

After he left, she found that she couldn't concentrate on her essay. She eventually gave up on it for the day and packed away her books and essay, pausing in front of one of the library's windows.

She gazed toward the Forbidden Forest where trees stood thick, deep and green. Insects whined in there, breeding in the darkness. Dangerous creatures slid through it, silent death. It was a place where snakes could slither and unknown beasts could suck the air out of your screaming lungs.

It was also a place, she thought, that went bright and beautiful with the twinkling of fireflies with approaching twilight. It was a place where wildflowers thrived in the shade and the stingy light and where a centaur could rule like a king.

There was no beauty without risk. No life without it.

She didn't completely trust Blaise Zabini, but she trusted herself. She would help Harry move forward and at the same time she would keep him safe.

ooo

**Hogwarts' Semi-Formal Dance**

**Friday,**

**September 5th, 1999**

**8pm – midnight**

**in the**

**Great Hall**

"What the hell!"

Ron ripped the flyer off the wall as he entered the Great Hall for lunch.

"Hermione said this wouldn't happen," he complained to Harry. "She said she would rather give a bubble bath to a dozen Blast-Ended Skrewts than approve the request for dance."

"It could be worse," Harry considered. "She could have approved Lavender's request for hot pink school robes."

"This is much worse than pink school robes, Harry," Ron said, scrunching up his face in a mixture of fear and nausea.

A group of fifth-year Hufflepuff girls passed them as he spoke. They shrieked with laughter as they walked by, pointedly looking at Harry.

"I'd be on the lookout for hidden love potions if I were you," Ron advised, watching the girls uneasily. "It will be like the Yule Ball all over again."

Harry visibly shuddered, beginning to feel nauseated himself. Finding a partner for the Yule Ball had been worse than taking on the Hungarian Horntail.

"I'm not going," he said, resolve firm.

"It's compulsory." Ron pointed to the fine print at the bottom of the flyer. "There's no way out."

"You're joking." Harry snatched the flyer from Ron and read it for himself.

"I suppose you could ask someone you know to go as friends," Ron said, trying to make him feel better. "You could ask Luna."

"No way," Harry replied, scrunching up the flyer and tossing it away. He began to walk towards the Gryffindor table. "She'll keep going on about my aura."

"That's not so bad considering the alternative," Ron said, anxiously eying a group of girls sitting at the Ravenclaw table. They were excitedly comparing notes on what they were going to wear on Friday night.

"I suppose you're right," Harry decided when the girls spotted him and started to giggle and whisper. "They make Luna look as wise as Dumbledore."

Romilda Vane approached him the moment he sat down at the Gryffindor table. She was holding a tray of treacle tarts and wearing a wicked smile.

"Would you like a treacle tart, Harry?" she asked, leaning in close to him. "I know they're your favourite. I read it in _Witch Weekly_."

"I told you so," Ron muttered in Harry's ear, as Ginny walked past on her way to sit with Dean. She intentionally bumped the tray with her hip. It fell to the floor with a loud crash.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Romilda," she apologised sarcastically over her shoulder, winking at Harry and Ron at the same time.

Romilda stared furiously at her and flushed scarlet. She left the table as Hermione arrived.

"This dance is ridiculous," she grumbled, dumping a large pile of parchment on the table. "We'll be up all night preparing for it, Ron."

"No, I won't," Ron protested, reaching for a bread roll. "I didn't approve it."

"Neither did I," Hermione said angrily, knocking the bread roll out of his hand, "but it's our duty as Head Boy and Head Girl."

She thrust a quill and a piece of parchment at him. "I need you to organise a music playlist. Now would be a good time to ask people for their requests."

Ron groaned loudly, but accepted the list and left table.

Hermione set to work, frantically writing notes and comparing lists. Harry ate his lunch and watched her silently.

Unfortunately, the silence didn't last for long.

"Hello, Potter", a voice behind him said.

He whipped around and saw Blaise Zabini smiling cajolingly.

Harry was about to tell him to get lost, but Zabini looked past him to Hermione. "Hello, Granger," he said, looking at her expectantly.

"What?" Hermione asked, begrudgingly putting her work down. Her irritated expression immediately changed when she saw who it was. Her voice blurred in her throat, then came out too high and hard. "Hello, Zabini."

"How's preparation for the dance going?" he inquired.

"It's going great," she said, forcing a smile. "It's going to be a lot of fun."

"It looks like a lot of work," he said, viewing the large amount of paperwork covering the table. "Perhaps I could help."

"That would be wonderful," she replied, a little too enthusiastically. "Take a seat."

Harry gaped at them, silently watching the exchange. Hermione must be really desperate if she was accepting help from a Slytherin.

"Thank you." Zabini sat down next to Harry and accepted the parchment that Hermione handed to him. "Have you got a date for the dance yet, Potter?" he asked casually, eyes on the parchment.

"No," Harry answered slowly and carefully. He looked to Hermione. She also had a look of confusion on her face.

"These decoration plans look great, Granger," he commented, before adding offhandedly, "I remember what it was like for you in fourth year, Potter. You had all of those people swarming you, dying to go to the Yule Ball with you."

"I remember," Harry replied, watching the Slytherin suspiciously. Was he just making idle chitchat or did he have an ulterior motive?

"You wouldn't want to go through it again, I would imagine," Blaise continued, eyes still on the parchment. "Am I right?"

"Yes." Harry kept his answers short, still unsure of where this conversation was going.

"Perhaps I could help," Blaise repeated from before. "I won't giggle at you. I won't spend the next four days obsessing over what I am going to wear. I don't give a shit about the fact that you are famous."

Harry became more confused. "What are you on about, Zabini?"

"I'm suggesting that you go to the dance with me," Blaise answered, putting the parchment down and matching Harry's gaze.

Blaise's eyes were swimming, oozing charm. "Don't you think that's a good idea, Granger?"

Harry's eyes snapped to Hermione. Blaise's remained on him.

"I think it's a great idea," Hermione replied, forcing herself to sound enthusiastic.

"What?" Harry's jaw dropped and he gaped at her. "Hermione, I can't believe that you are seriously agreeing with this."

_I can't believe it either_. She had made a deal with Blaise. He had said he would take care of the rest as long as she got the request for a dance approved by McGonagall. She had secretly hoped that McGonagall would refuse it, but she immediately agreed when Hermione approached her at dinner last night. Hermione simply had to go along with what Blaise was doing now.

"Well," she said, straightening her back and pausing for a moment, "what he is saying makes sense. If you go with him, everyone else will stop bothering you."

"But it's Zabini," Harry spoke as if the Slytherin was no longer there. "Why would he care about what bothers me?"

"He hasn't done anything wrong," she tried to reason.

Harry scoffed.

"He hasn't done anything wrong lately," she corrected. "Besides, it's just a stupid dance. All you have to do is show up, hang around for a while and leave."

"You might as well say yes," Blaise chimed in. "I'll just talk you into it."

Harry looked to Zabini and sighed. He certainly was a better option than Romilda Vane or one of the giggling Hufflepuffs. He was even a better option than Luna.

Plus, he was male, and Harry definitely preferred the company of males. Maybe showing up with Zabini would show the female population of the school that they needn't bother with him anymore.

"Alright, Zabini, I will go with you," he decided, "but only because it will reduce the risk of my meals being spiked with love potion."

ooo

After lunch, Blaise walked to his Transfiguration class with a satisfied smile on his face.

_Everything is going to plan so far._

He was just contemplating how easy it had been to convince Potter into attending the dance with him when an arm appeared out of a nearby broom closet and pulled him inside.

"What the hell was that about?"

Hermione had a fierce look on her face, one hand clasping the front of his uniform, the other pointing her wand at his face.

"I told you I had a plan for when you got the dance approved, Granger," Blaise replied calmly.

"I know," she said angrily, "but I thought that the idea was to get Harry together with Malfoy not to get you a date with him."

"It's all part of the plan to get them together," he explained.

"That sounds like a bunch of rubbish to me." She tightened her grip on his shirt front and pointed her wand closer to his face. "Are you tricking me? Is this really just a ploy to get you together with Harry?"

Blaise laughed lightly. "You're a smart witch, Granger, and you're as scary as hell when you are mad. I couldn't trick you if I tried."

"I would hex your balls off if you even thought about it," she agreed. "I don't understand how you going to the dance with Harry will get him together with Malfoy."

"Draco is the jealous type," Blaise told her, "I figure if he sees Potter with me-"

"He will step in and do something about his feeling for him," she said, finishing the sentence for him.

"Exactly."

She released her hold him and pocketed her wand. His idea seemed reasonable. After all, she didn't realise her feelings for Ron until Lavender Brown had stuck her tongue down his throat.

"You're a sly one, Zabini. I just hope that your plan works out."

_**To be continued**_

ooo

Please review! :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Vindicated**

**by clothsofheaven24**

ooo

Thank you, **Oliver** for being my beta and curing my bad case of writer's block. This story would not have been possible without you.

**Disclaimer:**

This story was inspired by the song Vindicated by Dashboard Confessional.

You all know that I don't own the Harry Potter characters (JKR does). But if I did, something like this would happen to them...

ooo

The castle was buzzing with excitement. Boys nervously approached girls in the corridors, girls dreamily doodled their dresses on parchment in classes and the Great Hall was already being set up for Friday night.

Draco was slightly irritated when he found out about the dance, but he quickly decided that there was no point in concerning about something so frivolous.

The Yule Ball had been a complete waste of his time. Pansy had babbled on all night about what other people were wearing and everyone had ogled Potter.

_Damn Potter_. Potter with his bright green eyes and untidy black hair.

Draco didn't like it when others ogled him. He convinced himself it was due to resentment or envy. Blaise knew it was because Draco felt something for Potter and got jealous when other people gawped at him.

Draco also convinced himself that Blaise was full of it. He simply hated Potter because he was unnecessarily famous and loved by everyone. He hated the Yule Ball because he had gone with a girl and he wasn't attracted to girls.

This time he would only go because it was compulsory. He would show up, waste away a few moments of his time and then leave. He certainly wouldn't be asking anyone to go with him. There was no one worthwhile to ask.

To his annoyance, several girls in Slytherin asked him. He scathingly refused. They had looked hurt, but he didn't care. He only had one year left at the school. He didn't mind if he had no other friends besides Blaise and Pansy. He just wanted peace.

He ventured out into the grounds after his classes one afternoon in search of solitude.

The leaves had begun to change colour, turning the grounds into a portrait of gold and rust.

He spread his books out on his discarded robes and rested his back against a thick tree trunk.

He had just started on his homework when he was interrupted by Pansy.

Her shadow fell across his parchment as she stood in front of him, a smug and eager expression on her face. "Go to the dance with me."

Draco scoffed and didn't look up from his parchment. "No," he said firmly. "Now get out of the way, you're blocking my light."

"No," Pansy said, matching his tone. "Give me one good reason why we shouldn't go together."

Draco rolled his eyes in annoyance, but put his Herbology report to the side and looked up at her disdainfully.

"I went to the Yule Ball with you," he answered her. "I'm not stupid enough to make the same mistake twice."

"Things were different then," Pansy said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I had a crush on you and didn't realise you swung the other way."

"I remember," Draco said grumpily. "You tricked me under the mistletoe and stuck your ghastly tongue down my throat."

Pansy giggled. "I won't do that this time," she assured him. "We'll go together as friends. It'll be fun."

Draco scoffed at her again. "Clearly, you and I differ greatly on our perception of the word fun."

"Come on," Pansy urged him. "We can get drunk on the spiked punch, make fun of what other people are wearing and laugh at Greg's attempts at dancing."

Draco resisted the impulse to laugh. Goyle always made a fool of himself when he tried to dance. At the Yule Ball, he had tripped Millicent Bullstrode in his attempts to do 'the Flobberworm'. Draco smiled mildly at the memory.

"Plus, if you say yes to me, other people will stop asking you," Pansy continued to convince him. "I heard Astoria and Daphne Greengrass arguing over who gets to ask you next in the girls' bathroom this morning."

Draco sighed in exasperation. All he wanted was to be left alone, but it didn't seem like it was going to happen with Friday night looming.

"Fine," he said. "I'll go with you as friends. Now go away and leave me to finish my homework in peace.

"Very well," Pansy said, beginning to walk away from him. "I'll go tell the Greengrass girls the bad news."

Pansy headed back to the Slytherin common room. She had gotten as far as the Entrance Hall when she ran into Blaise.

"How did it go?" he asked her eagerly.

"He said no at first, but I convinced him," Pansy told him proudly.

"Good girl," Blaise said, patting her on the back. "Everything is working out so far."

"I still can't believe you got Potter to go with you," she said, "but the most impressive thing was persuading Granger into helping you."

Blaise smiled smugly. "I was simply being a cunning Slytherin," he said, before his expression turned serious, "which is something I need you to do on Friday night."

"I knew you'd ask me to do more than ask Draco to go," Pansy sighed. "Being friends with you can involve a lot of hard work sometimes."

"Trust me, you'll enjoy it," Blaise promised her. "I need you to make sure that Draco sees Potter and me together. You should try and bait him a bit too."

Pansy's expression changed and she squealed. "Oh, look at Potter and Blaise," she gushed delightfully. "They look so adorable together, don't you think, Draco?"

She smiled intently at Blaise for a few more moments before changing back to her normal voice. "How was that?"

"Perfect," Blaise said. "I want you to keep that sort of thing up until he cracks."

"Can do," Pansy said with a single quick nod of her head. She turned to head down to the Slytherin quarters.

Blaise stopped her. "Just one more thing, Pans."

She sighed again. "It better be quick," she said. "I haven't even started my Herbology report yet."

"Super quick," Blaise assured her. "Granger is in the Great Hall setting up for Friday night with Weasley. Can you give her this note for me?"

"Why can't you do it?" she asked.

"Because Weasley is less likely to punch or hex you," Blaise explained, handing her a folded piece of parchment.

"Okay," she agreed, "but this is the third and final thing I'm going to do for you."

ooo

_Meet me in the prefect bathroom at eleven o'clock tonight. Come alone. _

Hermione immediately knew that the note was from Blaise Zabini even though it hadn't been signed.

She entered the bathroom five minutes before their scheduled meeting time.

The room was completely empty except for Blaise, who had arrived early too. All of the other prefects had showered hours ago.

"I'm very busy, Zabini," she said as she walked towards him. "You better make this quick."

She was exhausted from all the preparations for the dance. Everything was finalised now, but she desperately wanted to get some sleep as soon as possible.

"No problem, Granger," Blaise said, smiling in his usual charming way. "I just have one other small thing for you to do regarding tomorrow night."

She exhaled sharply through her nose, clearly irritated. "Out with it then."

"It's really very simple," he replied, taking two Butterbeer bottles out of the pocket of his robes.

"Give this to Potter to drink a few minutes before the dance." He went to hand her one of the bottles and she quickly snatched it off him.

She looked at it apprehensively before carefully opening it.

The liquid inside had a light mother-of-pearl sheen and smelt faintly of fresh cut grass, new parchment and toothpaste to her.

"No way in hell." She closed the bottle quickly and pushed it back at him. "One of the main reasons I agreed to letting you take Harry to the dance was to prevent him from being drugged with love potion. I'm not about to go and give it to him myself."

"Let me explain," Blaise said calmly. "This is a very weak batch of Amortentia. I diluted it myself."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "How did you even get it?" she asked. "Professor Slughorn got rid of it all once we made it."

"I have my ways," Blaise said enigmatically, which only frustrated her further.

"I didn't realise that this idea of yours would involve breaking school rules," she growled, frustration and exhaustion combining to make her even more impatient. "I'm not drugging Harry with love potion. You'll just have to think of something else."

"Hear me out, Granger," he said, voice still calm, "please."

She exhaled sharply through her nose again and placed her hands on her hips.

Blaise continued to smile at her, despite the scornful look she was giving him.

"Like I said, it's a very weak batch. Potter won't become obsessed with me if he drinks it. He'll just be genuinely happy to be in my company. I figured it would help anger Draco further if Potter looks glad to be at the dance with me."

"How do you know that the effects won't be as severe?" she asked, still unconvinced.

He indicated to the second bottle. "This one is the antidote for you to give to him at the end of the evening," he explained, "but if the Amortentia is too strong for your liking, you can give it to him right away."

Hermione's eyes remained narrowed as she considered what Blaise had said. She snatched the second bottle from him and examined it closely.

She then removed the cap off the first bottle again and took a small sip.

All feelings of frustration and fatigue slipped away. She looked up at Blaise and felt happy. His presence was suddenly soothing.

She didn't feel the need to embrace or kiss him, but she decided that if he tried, she wouldn't refuse him. She figured that nothing he could do would be of harm to her. She could trust him. She could enjoy whatever he had to offer.

She beamed at him and he chuckled. "You better drink from the other bottle."

She did what he said without giving it any forethought.

The moment the antidote touch her lips she felt like herself again. She was annoyed by Blaise's presence and sensed a headache coming on.

"Very well," she agreed, ending their conversation. "I will give Harry the bottle to drink."

She didn't wait for Blaise to answer or thank her. She pocketed the bottles and marched up to Gryffindor Tower and went straight to her bed.

ooo

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Are you absolutely, positively sure?"

"Ron."

"Are-"

Ron stopped when Hermione shot him an annoyed look. She was standing behind Harry, helping him with his tie.

Ron had begun to pace around the fireplace in the common room the moment Hermione finished adjusting his tie and went to assist Harry.

Friday night was finally upon them and Ron still wasn't convinced that Harry should go with Zabini.

He had shouted at Hermione when he first found out about it. He was angry that Zabini had even spoken to Harry and couldn't believe Hermione supported the idea of him going out with their friend.

Hermione had eventually calmed him down by explaining her actions with just reasons, however he still remained unnerved.

"In case you didn't hear me the first seventy times I told you," she said, "Harry will be fine going with Zabini."

"I just don't think it's a good idea," Ron protested for the seventy-first time. "He's a Slytherin."

"I think Ron is right, Hermione," Harry joined in. "He—ouch!"

He yelped as Hermione pulled his tie too tight. His breath caught in his throat as it was pressed very hard by the offending garment.

"Sorry," Hermione apologised, but looked satisfied with her interruption. She loosened the material and began again.

"Firstly, I already told Zabini there would be severe consequences if he hurts Harry in any way," she reminded them, "and in case you haven't noticed, nobody has attempted to drug Harry with love potion ever since Zabini asked him out."

"You have a fair point there," Ron reluctantly agreed, as Romilda Vane walked passed. She looked longingly at Harry, but didn't approach him.

"As scary as it is," Hermione continued, "we can trust Zabini far more than we can trust some of the girls in this common room at the moment." She finished adjusting Harry's tie and turned to the crate which contained Gryffindor's stash of Butterbeer.

She began to fiddle with the crate of Butterbeer bottles with her back to Harry and Ron. She had shrunk the bottles Zabini had given her so she could hide them easily in the pocket of her dress.

She retrieved the first one and quickly returned it to its original size.

Luckily, Harry and Ron weren't paying her any attention. They were still talking about Zabini.

"Romilda Vane never hung out with Death Eaters though," Ron reasoned, looking imploringly at Harry. "I think you should cancel, mate. It's not too late to ask Luna."

"She's going with Neville," Harry replied, "but I have doubts about Zabini too. I'll just tell him that I can't go with him anymore."

He had been worrying about this evening all week and Ron's opinion on the matter seemed to perturb him further. Hermione maintained it was a good idea, but he seriously doubted her. She was probably having a lapse in judgment due to the stress of her Head Girl duties and the approach of their NEWT exams.

"It's for the best," Ron said, looking relieved. "Don't you think, Hermione?"

Hermione quickly cast a cooling charm over the drinks and turned to face them, two bottles in hand.

"Yes," she answered, having no idea of what she was agreeing to. "Have a drink."

She handed a bottle to Ron and thrust another one at Harry. She grabbed one for herself and took a large swig.

Harry and Ron copied her, enjoying the soothing taste as the Butterbeer slid down their throats.

Harry found that the Butterbeer relaxed him immensely. He was no longer worried about attending the dance with Zabini. He even found himself looking forward to his arrival.

"Is it time to go yet?" he asked keenly. "I don't want to keep Blaise waiting."

Hermione was relieved; the potion was working the way Zabini had predicted and the way it had worked on her.

Ron laughed. "Good one, mate," he said, thumping Harry appreciatively on the back. "_Blaise_. Ha!"

Harry happily took another swig from his bottle and grinned broadly. "This is going to be a lot of fun," he said, then gasped loudly. "Does my hair look okay?"

He looked frantically from one friend to the other.

Ron laughed again, still thinking it was a joke.

"You look hot," a voice said from the portrait hole, "practically edible, in fact."

Ron quickly drew his wand and scowled as Harry's grin broadened; Blaise Zabini had entered the common room.

He had arrived with some students from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, who were there to pick up their Gryffindor dates as well.

"You look good too," Harry replied, moving over to him at rapid speed. "Shall we?"

"Absolutely," Blaise said, matching Harry's grin. He offered Harry his arm and Harry gladly accepted.

"Harry, this isn't funny anymore." Ron had approached the Slytherin immediately after Harry. "Just tell him you can't go with him already."

"Why would I do that?" Harry asked, looking incredulously at him. "That would be rude."

"But we just agreed-"

"Merlin, look at the time!" Hermione interrupted him and grab his wand arm. "We have to get down to the Great Hall and make sure everything is okay!"

"But we_ just_ agreed-"

Ron tried again, but Hermione was forcefully pulling him out of the portrait hole.

"Have fun!" she called to Blaise and Harry over Ron's voice. Ron looked around at Harry confusedly as he left. Harry animatedly waved him goodbye, grin still plastered to his face. He turned back to Blaise.

"We should go too," he said excitedly. "I can't wait to dance. I bet you are a great dancer."

"Me too, Potter," Blaise replied, steering Harry towards the portrait hole.

They followed Ron and Hermione's exit, walking close together with their arms locked.

The remaining students in the common room watched them leave, a mixture of jealously and bewilderment on their faces.

ooo

Draco and Pansy stood guard as Theodore Nott quickly dumped a large amount of Firewhisky into the punch bowl.

Luckily, most people in the Great Hall were distracted by the magnificent decorations and didn't see what they were up too.

The four house tables had been removed for the occasion.

The floating candles had been removed as well. They had been replaced by the warm glow of hundreds of fireflies.

Balloons and streamers, which had been charmed by Professor Flitwick, swirled and drifted idly around the room.

The stars shone brightly in the enchanted ceiling above. They cast a soft and shimmering light over the dance floor, where an album by the _Weird Sisters_ was playing.

Draco irritably batted a falling streamer away from his face and poured himself a large glass of spiked punch.

Pansy poured herself a glass as well and began to talk excitedly about the couples entering the hall.

"Look at Longbottom and Lovegood!" she exclaimed. "They actually make a good couple; Weird and Weirder."

Draco took a large gulp of punch and winced when Pansy elbowed him in the ribs and pointed to the other end of the room. "I can't believe what Millicent is wearing! Her thighs are way too fat to pull off a dress that short!"

"Daphne looks nice though," she continued. "I can't believe she went with Ernie Macmillan though."

She paused briefly, drinking some of her punch and appearing to be deep in thought. "She didn't have much of a choice, I guess. She was so desperate for a date by the end of the week and most boys were already taken."

"She really wanted to go with you, so did Astoria. She ended up going with Malcolm Baddock! He's a whole year younger than her!" she continued to rant, waving her glass around so enthusiastically that most of her punch splashed onto the floor.

"Parvati Patil is with Terry Boot. The colour of his tie clashes horribly with her dress. Lavender Brown looks good with Michael Corner. He's a bit of a hothead though."

"Weasel and Granger are together as usual and Ginny Weasley is going out with that Dean Thomas. He's very attractive, a bit out of her league if you ask me. Potter and Blaise look great together, of course. I wonder when Greg..." she ranted on.

Draco hadn't been listening to her, but the sound of Potter's name had caught his attention. He followed Pansy's gaze to where Potter and Blaise stood on the dance floor. They were beginning to dance.

Blaise was piercing Potter with a sultry gaze as he gyrated his hips in time with the music. Potter wasn't as graceful as Blaise, but he smiled and looked into Blaise's eyes as he attempted to move to the beat.

They quickly fell into a comfortable rhythm, moving and smiling in the same way.

Draco felt a sharp twitch of foreboding course through him.

"Oh, doesn't Hannah Abbott look lovely! I love her dress," Pansy was still babbling, "I love her dress almost as much as Potter loves being with Blaise."

Potter did indeed look like he was having a good time in Blaise's company.

"Can it, will you?" Draco growled, taking a particularly large swig of punch. He finished the drink quickly and turned to pour himself another.

"What's wrong, Draco?" Pansy asked, feigning surprise. "Are you a bit jealous of them?"

"No," Draco replied before finishing his second drink in one hit. He immediately poured another, eyes still on the controversial couple.

"You look angry," Pansy observed. "Are you mad at Blaise because you wanted to go with Potter?"

"I hate Potter," Draco said through gritted teeth. Pansy was right; he was angry, but he kept it caged inside. He could feel the hate rattling his ribcage and burning his insides. He clenched his fists tightly around the glass of punch in his hand.

"Neurologically speaking, the part of the human brain that makes you hate people is located right next to the part of the brain that makes you want to jump people's bones." Luna Lovegood had suddenly appeared at Draco's side.

Neville was nearby also, pouring her a glass of punch. He was clearly unaware that the batch had been spiked.

Draco didn't look at her, but he could feel her perceptive gaze on him.

"The two responses are so similar, it's hard to tell them apart," she continued. "This could explain the intensity of your aura."

Pansy stifled a giggle behind her hand. Draco kept his eyes narrowly fixed on Potter and Blaise. They were dancing closer now, their bodies nearly touching.

_I hate Potter_. Draco couldn't stop thinking about how much he hated him. He hated him all the time. He hated him so much he wanted to rip his stupid clothes off and pull at his ridiculously messy hair.

How dare someone with such unkempt hair, daggy clothes and dorky glasses look _so fucking hot_.

"I've never seen this type of red before. It seems dangerous, almost volatile. Perhaps I should take you to see Professor Trelawney," Luna went on, but Draco didn't hear her. His eyes narrowed further, deepening his scowl.

Potter was a clumsy dancer. He tripped over his own feet and fell forward into Blaise.

Blaise caught him with his arms, pinning him to his chest to prevent him from falling to the floor.

They both laughed, smiling at each other.

The sensation in Draco's chest began to expand throughout the rest of his body. He felt a furnace heat rise up around him. It seemed to come from within and without at the same time.

He remembered the feel of Potter against him, as he had fallen on him in the lake. He had felt wet, wet and _hot_.

The heat became unbearable as he watched Blaise lean down and close his mouth over Potter's.

Potter's eyes widened in shock and for a moment it looked like he was going to pull away.

Blaise strengthened his hold and tightened their embrace. Potter shrugged to himself and shut his eyes, becoming contented. He began to kiss Blaise back.

Draco's head gave a wobble of outrage and the glass in his hand smashed. Glass exploded everywhere and Pansy shrieked. Luna had taken a step back a moment before. It was as if she knew it was going to happen.

"You've done it now," Draco spat, not noticing the pool of glass around him. His fists were still clenched and the whole of his arms were vibrating at his sides. "You've really done it now."

He was suddenly walking forward, advancing on the couple with quick, wide strides. It was as if he was magnetised.

He would have pushed people out of his way, but they saw him coming.

They watched him fearfully, quickly parting from each other and making a path for him to pass through.

Everyone could see it and smell it; a sharp, feral scent was radiating out of him. The force of it made them wince with suspense and anticipation. They all seemed to know what was going to happen next.

Draco reached Potter and Blaise quickly. They seemed to be the only two people in the vicinity who hadn't noticed his approach.

They were still kissing. Blaise's hands were running through Potter's thick raven hair now. Potter was moaning in response.

The sound of it caused Draco to lunge forward. He grabbed the two boys by the back of the neck and ripped them apart.

He pushed one of them to the side and pulled the other close, gripping the front of their shirt tightly.

There was a brief pause as Draco glared into their eyes.

Everyone watched him with baited breath.

Their silence turned into one loud combined gasp as Draco swung his fist and slammed his knuckles deep into his target's face.

The boy who he had hit staggered backwards and fell to the floor. He was gasping in shock and a red blaze burned on his cheek.

"You've _really_ done it now."

_**To be continued**_

I know, I know, I'm terribly evil, but I just couldn't help leaving this chapter on a cliff-hanger.

Now we can play a quick game of 'Who do you think Draco punched? Was it Harry or was it Blaise?'

You will have the answer and the next chapter shortly! I will type as fast as I possibly can! In the meantime, please review! :D

"_Neurologically speaking, the part of the human brain that makes you hate people is located right next to the part of the brain that makes you want to jump people's bones. The two responses are so similar, it's hard to tell them apart."_

I couldn't resist including this quote from _How I Met Your Mother_. It is from Season Five in an episode called 'Rabbit or Duck'.

_Draco couldn't stop thinking about how much he hated him. He hated him all the time. He hated him so much he wanted to rip his stupid clothes off and pull at his ridiculously messy hair. _

This line was also adapted from the episode.

Please review! :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Vindicated **

**by clothsofheaven24**

ooo

Thank you, **Oliver** for being my beta and curing my bad case of writer's block. This story would not have been possible without you.

**Disclaimer: **

This story was inspired by the song Vindicated by Dashboard Confessional.

You all know that I don't own the Harry Potter characters (JKR does). But if I did, something like this would happen to them...

ooo

_Draco's head gave a wobble of outrage and the glass in his hand smashed. Glass exploded everywhere and Pansy shrieked. Luna had taken a step back a moment before. It was as if she knew it was going to happen._

"You've done it now," Draco spat, not noticing the pool of glass around him. His fists were still clenched and the whole of his arms were vibrating at his sides. "You've really done it now."

He was suddenly walking forward, advancing on the couple with quick, wide strides. It was as if he was magnetised.

He would have pushed people out of his way, but they saw him coming.

They watched him fearfully, quickly parting from each other and making a path for him to pass through.

Everyone could see it and smell it; a sharp, feral scent was radiating out of him. The force of it made them wince with suspense and anticipation. They all seemed to know what was going to happen next.

_Draco reached Potter and Blaise quickly. They seemed to be the only two people in the vicinity who hadn't noticed his approach._

They were still kissing. Blaise's hands were running through Potter's thick raven hair now. Potter was moaning in response.

The sound of it caused Draco to lunge forward. He grabbed the two boys by the back of the neck and ripped them apart.

He pushed one of them to the side and pulled the other close, gripping the front of their shirt tightly.

There was a brief pause as Draco glared into their eyes.

Everyone watched him with bated breath.

Their silence turned into one loud combined gasp as Draco swung his fist and slammed his knuckles deep into his target's face.

The boy who he had hit staggered backwards and fell to the floor. He was gasping in shock and a red blaze burned on his cheek.

"You've _really_ done it now." Draco spat again, he was staring at Blaise, but he was really talking to Potter.

Blaise was sprawled on the floor. He looked hurt, but not surprised by the attack. He had anticipated it; it was his plan all along.

He was even resisting the urge to smile as Draco continued to act the way he predicted.

He slowly lifted a hand to his burning cheek and happily watched the anger evident in Draco's eyes grow.

Potter, on the other hand, looked completely dumbfounded. His lips were puffy from kissing and his eyes were wide with alarm. His shocked expression grew larger when Draco abruptly turned on him.

"You've really done it now, you little slut!"

Draco spat and hissed like a venomous snake. The crowd around him winced, but Potter stood his ground. The love potion, combined with his usual disdain for Malfoy, caused him to reply angrily.

"One kiss is hardly a criminal offense," he said furiously.

"It is the way you do it," Draco tossed back, equally furious. "How many other people have you kissed this week, Potter, or have you lost track?"

Potter opened his mouth to retort, but he was stopped by a sudden commotion.

Red-faced and fuming Weasley rushed in, forming a barrier between them. His wand was raised and his face seemed to be blazing more than Blaise's injured cheek. It was almost the same colour as his flaming red hair.

He had hurried over from the other side of the room where he had been dancing with Hermione. He had initially rushed over to reprimand Blaise, but Draco had beaten him to it.

Draco was suddenly the main threat again, though Blaise had taken his place for a short while.

Weasley wasn't always the sharpest Fanged Geranium in the Greenhouse, but he quickly became aware of the scene that had unfolded. He was also aware of Draco's fury; he had hit his own housemate and it was likely he would soon try to hit Harry.

Draco's fury was suddenly matched forcefully by Weasley's. He had spent the last eight years helping and protecting his best mate from harm and he wasn't about to stop now. "Leave him alone, Malfoy!"

Weasley's help, however, was clearly not wanted. Potter irritably pushed him away. "Get out of the way, Ron!"

Ron was astounded. "I'm trying to help you!" he beseeched, stepping back in front of him.

"I don't need your help," Potter replied crossly, pushing him away again. "Get out of my way! I can't see Blaise!"

Potter was hurrying over to Blaise now, his argument with Malfoy forgotten.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" he fretted, leaning over Blaise and placing his own hand over the hand Blaise had on his cheek.

"I'm fine, _Harry_," Blaise replied, taking the opportunity to draw out Potter's first name as he spoke.

He smiled up at Potter with the tip of his tongue between his teeth. He used his other hand to snake slowly around Potter's hip to his arse. He gave the firm flesh he found there a long, slow squeeze. Potter welcomed the movement and giggled happily in response.

Revulsion and fury rose in Draco like vomit; he balled his fists again and leapt forward.

Three separate hexes attempted to hit him at once. The first struck a nearby refreshment table; another barely missed his right ear; the third hit him in the middle of the chest.

His body turned rigid in the air and he landed on his stomach with a loud thump.

"Control yourself, Mr Malfoy," said a sharp voice.

Professor McGonagall was running towards them, closely followed by Granger. They both had their wands drawn, like Weasley, but only McGonagall's Body-Bind Curse had worked successfully.

"You too, Mr Weasley, Miss Granger," she spoke calmly when she reached them, but the beady eyes behind her square glasses were livid. "Lower your wands."

They obeyed her quickly. Weasley pocketed his wand reluctantly, glad that Draco was incapacitated, but also aggravated that he hadn't been the one to do it.

Granger lowered her wand, but kept it tightly in her hand. She hurried over to mend the refreshment table Weasley's Bat Bogey Hex had accidentally hit.

McGonagall watched her for a moment with pursed lips, but allowed her to upright the table, and mend and refill the glass punch bowl with nonverbal incantations.

"I have never seen such a disgraceful exhibition," McGonagall said crossly.

With a flick of her wrist, she turned Draco's bound and rigid form over so he was now facing her.

She lifted the Body-Bind slightly. Draco found could raise his head and move his mouth, but he was still immobile from his shoulders down.

"I am most disappointed in you, Mr Malfoy," she continued, her square spectacles flashing alarmingly. "Explain yourself."

"I was provoked, Professor," Draco said stiffly.

He could still feel hot anger raging through his veins, but the Body-Bind contained it for him. He spoke as calmly as he could to avoid McGonagall's wrath.

"Provoked?" McGonagall shouted, blood rushing into her face. "What on earth could have happened to justify your giving Mr Zabini and Mr Potter an exhibition of Muggle duelling?"

"I-" Draco started, but McGonagall didn't want to hear his answer.

"Detention and twenty points from Slytherin," she barked, "and you are to return to your dormitory immediately! I do not care what provocation these boys offered you, your behaviour was disgusting and - Miss Granger will you stop fussing around that table, your repair charms are more than sufficient!"

Hermione jumped from her position in front of the mended punch bowl.

"Yes, Professor," she said, hastily turning around with a glass in her hand.

McGonagall flashed her a contemptuous look before reversing her Body-Bind Curse on Draco. "Return to your dormitory immediately, Mr Malfoy," she repeated in an icy voice, "and I shall see you tomorrow night in my office at seven o'clock for your detention."

Draco nodded, scrambling to his feet. Everybody stared at him as he made his exit. It took all of his strength and self-control not to punch them in their prying eyes and bewildered faces as well.

McGonagall followed him to the main doors and watched him retreat to the dungeons. She turned back to the room of shocked students and ordered them to carry on with their evening.

The dancing slowly began again and several people went to refill their empty punch glasses.

Hermione bustled over to Harry and thrust the glass she was holding into his hand.

"Drink this, Harry," she said. "It will help you calm down."

"I'm fine," Harry said, batting her hand away. He was leaning over Blaise again, worrying about his cheek.

Blaise looked at her over Harry's shoulder and saw that she was glaring at him in warning. She had added the second potion to the glass as everyone was busy watching Professor McGonagall punish Draco.

"Have some punch, Harry," he encouraged, standing up to prove to his drugged admirer he was okay. "Granger is right."

Harry did what Blaise suggested immediately. He grabbed the glass from Hermione and gulped the antidote down noisily.

Hermione, Ron and Blaise watched him. For a moment, Harry beamed at them. Then, very slowly, his grin sagged and vanished, to be replaced by an expression of utmost horror.

_Zabini kissed me and I let him._

_Malfoy pushed me and punched Zabini._

_Malfoy called me a slut. _

Harry's thoughts ran in a rapid, jagged line. His friends and Blaise watched him anxiously as his expression of horror changed to one of confusion and then rage.

"Malfoy called me a slut, but I did not kiss him at the lake! He kissed me first! He's the slut!" His voice was uncontrollably loud and they could hear the raw vibration of anger in it.

He turned on Blaise. "What is the password for the Slytherin common room?" he demanded.

Ron quickly intercepted the exchange. "No, Harry. You need to stay away from him. He nearly hurt you before."

"I can handle it," Harry replied in annoyance.

"I'm coming with you then."

"No."

Ron scowled at the unexpected bitterness in Harry's voice.

They faced each other slowly, a confrontation swooping in. There was a small pause as they drew themselves up to their full height; the calm before the storm.

"I don't need your help all the time, Ron!" said Harry angrily. "I can make my own decisions!"

Ron practically screamed with derisive laughter. "You think going out with Zabini was a good idea, do you?" he spoke just as angrily as Harry. "I thought we both agreed that it wasn't, but then you went off with him anyway!"

"It is none of your business who I go out with!" Harry yelled, though he did regret kissing Zabini.

In the back of his mind he vaguely wondered why he had done it. To enrage Ron perhaps? The idea seemed tangible enough at the moment; he was furious at Ron for his constant interfering.

"It is my business!" Ron roared. "Do you think I like people calling my best mate a slut?"

"Think I'm a slut, do you?" Harry growled, pulling out his wand. "Do you agree with Malfoy then?"

"He doesn't think that at all, Harry," said Hermione, stepping swiftly between them as Ron pulled out his own wand.

"Oh yes he does!" Harry yelled trying to get a clear shot at Ron behind Hermione, who was standing in front of him with her arms outstretched. "He's always meddling about in my business too! I never have a moment of peace!"

"You don't know what you are talking about!" Ron yelled back at Harry through Hermione's bushy hair. "You're my mate! It's my job to look out for you!"

"It's my right to have some privacy!" Harry shouted, beside himself. "I expect that kind of shit from Rita Skeeter, but not from you!"

A streak of yellow light flew under Hermione's arm and missed Ron by millimetres.

Hermione gasped and pushed Harry backwards. "Stop it, Harry. Stop it right now!"

Harry ignored her. "Going to co-write her next book, are you?" he continued to shout at Ron, as Hermione attempted to snatch his wand from him. "Going to tell the entire world that I'm a little slut who likes to go around kissing evil Slytherins?"

Ron didn't reply immediately. The look on his face was murderous. They both stood, breathing heavily, as Hermione kept trying for Harry's wand; the eye of the storm.

"YOU WERE DEAD!" Ron bellowed, the volume of his voice reaching the other students around them. Some stopped dancing and stared at him, surprised another argument had broken out so quickly.

"You were lying dead in Hagrid's arms!" Ron suddenly sounded close to tears. It made Harry and Hermione freeze. She stopped grasping for his wand and he stopped gripping it. It dropped to the floor silently.

"You knew you were still alive and Narcissa Malfoy knew you were still alive, but to us you were dead!"

Professor McGonagall, who had been approaching the argument ready to hand out more lectures and detentions, stopped in her tracks. She was shocked back into the incidence Ron was describing.

"It was the worst moment of my life! I thought that you were gone!"

Ron was shaking now. He shook so forcefully that his wand slipped from his hand, but he didn't seem to notice its absence.

Hermione let out an involuntary sob.

The sound of it forced Harry's memory deeper into the past, before he faked his death for Voldemort, to Dumbledore's funeral.

Hagrid had been howling with grief as he hugged Grawp. Harry remembered hearing it has he sat with Ron and Hermione under the shade of a beech tree.

"_We'll be there, Harry," said Ron._

"_What?"_

"_We'll go with you, wherever you are going."_

"_No-" said Harry quickly; he had not counted on this, he had meant them to understand that he was undertaking this most dangerous journey alone. _

"_You said to us once before," said Hermione quietly, "that there was time to turn back if we wanted to. We've had time, haven't we?"_

"_We're with you whatever happens," said Ron. _

The three friends now stood in silence. Hermione had wrapped her arms around Harry and was now holding him in a tight embrace; Harry unconsciously stroked her back to comfort her.

McGonagall sensed that the boys' anger had dropped and the heated dispute was over. She ordered the students back to the dance for the second time that evening. Blaise slipped away from the Gryffindor trio unnoticed.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said-" Harry began.

"No, no, it was all my fault-" Ron insisted.

"You've always been there for me. I really appreciate-"

"I should give you more space. You deserve it after everything-"

"You're my best mate-"

"You're like a brother-"

It was uncomfortable for them to make these acknowledgments without their previous anger as a buffer between them.

Hermione let go of Harry so that he and Ron could shake hands and awkwardly pat each other on the back.

The other students had gone back to dancing, but they still eyed Harry and Ron amusedly through the corner of their eyes.

"Shall we go back to the common room?" Ron suggested, beginning to accept Harry's need for more privacy.

Harry agreed happily. His vendetta for Malfoy was forgotten. The possibility for vengeance was still there, lying in a no man's land between them, and he had discarded it and chosen not to pick it up.

He followed Ron and Hermione to Gryffindor Tower where they finished the evening on a happy note with Butterbeers and Exploding Snap.

ooo

_Damn Potter._

Draco blasted the lid of his trunk off with his wand before he dropped to his knees and began to rummage around through its contents.

_Damn Blaise._

He threw socks and school books over his shoulder in his haste to find his secret potion kit.

_Damn, Damn, Damn, Damn, DAMN!_

He was usually a very tidy and organised person, but the fury still flooding inside him caused him to momentarily forget the usual space in which he hid his secret stash of potions. He carelessly threw his usually treasured and well-kept belongings out of his way.

"Thank Merlin!" he cried to himself as he located a nondescript black box at the bottom of his trunk.

He unceremoniously ripped the lid off and grabbed at one of the bottles labelled 'Calming Draught'.

He took double of the recommended dosage for the potion before collapsing on his bed and falling into an unusually tranquil and peaceful sleep.

ooo

Granger was ignoring Blaise, he just knew it.

She didn't respond to the owl he sent the morning following the dance and refused to look him in the eye as he passed her in a corridor on the sixth floor later that afternoon.

Luckily, she was predictable and easy to find when he really needed to speak with her.

He found her after dinner at her customary post in the library. She was surrounded by more books than ever; she was trying to hide herself even more than usual.

Blaise removed several books from a particularly large pile which obstructed her face from view.

She looked up at him frustratingly, her quill posed over a difficult and lengthy Ancient Runes problem.

"I get the feeling you are avoiding me, Granger," he said, smiling down at her pleasantly.

"I'm not avoiding you," she huffed. "I'm just very busy."

"You didn't respond to my owl."

"I didn't see the need to."

He raised his eyebrows questioningly at her.

"Your plan didn't work," she explained to him, "and the only reason I'm not giving you those detentions is because Harry didn't get hurt."

"I know," said Blaise, pointing to his cheek. "I got hurt."

"That is neither my problem nor my concern," she replied haughtily, "now please leave me to finish my homework."

"But doesn't the fact that the plan didn't work concern you?" he asked, her icy tone and demeanour not worrying him; he was receiving a much worse attitude from Draco. "It is obvious Draco has it bad for Potter. You saw how angry he was at me for touching him."

"I think it's best for Harry to stay away from Malfoy," Granger advised. "Malfoy could just have easily hit him. He could have gotten seriously hurt."

"You sound as paranoid as Weasley," he observed, smirking down at her.

She scowled at him, somehow more menacing and threatening than Draco had ever been. The powerful sting of Ron's outburst was still raw and sensitive.

"I'm sorry," he backtracked, "that was tactless."

"No," she said bitterly, flaring up at him, "that was rude and inconsiderate and horrible."

It was amazing how she could yell in a whisper, Blaise thought.

He tried to appeal to her soft side.

"It was a terrible time," Blaise spoke softly. "You weren't the only ones who crumpled at the sight of his-"

"Don't," she warned him.

"I just wanted to say that Draco was also devastated when he-"

"Enough!"

She was on her feet now, throwing up her hands. She pressed her palms against his shirt-front and her amazing strength propelled him backwards.

He stumbled over his own feet, his mouth gaping open in momentary surprise.

"Leave me alone. Leave Harry alone. Forget about him ever being with Malfoy. I don't want to see either of you near him again."

Blaise took a few steps backwards on his own and raised his hands in a gesture of defeat.

"I'm sorry. You misunderstood what I-"

"It's not a misunderstanding," she said, squaring her shoulders and watching him slowly retreat. "I'll say it again: Leave Harry alone or you will regret it."

Blaise walked to the library exit angrier with himself than at Granger. He had approached her in a way that was too arrogant and confronting. He should have known better.

The situation had been easier to deal with when he had Granger as an ally. As reluctant as she had been with his plan, she was still competent and compliant in carrying out the required tasks.

Now he could only continue with the increasingly difficult mission of getting Draco and Potter together on his own.

It was crazy, almost impossible, but he was determined.

He was determined to figure a way around Weasley's and Granger's protectiveness; a way around Draco's and Potter's rivalry and ignorance; a way around the confusion of hate and love.

He exited the library as Luna Lovegood entered. She almost bumped into him as she was immersed in a book, reading out loud to herself:

"**The human heart has hidden treasures, ** **In secret kept, in silence sealed; ** **The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures, ** **Whose charms were broken if revealed."**

Blaise listened intently. Turning on his heel, he followed Luna Lovegood back into the library.

She disappeared behind a bookshelf devoted to Divination. Blaise hurried over to her.

She looked up from a book on palm reading when she saw him approaching her. She didn't frown at him like Granger did. She merely looked intrigued.

"Hello, Luna," he said, turning his charming smile on her. "That looks like an interesting book. What is it about?"

"You are blue," she said enigmatically, piercing him with perceptive eyes, "but it is a very strange blue, neither dark nor light."

She put her book down in order to examine him closer.

"You are always cool, calm and collected, even in the most adverse situations," she continued. "I saw it last night. It was in the most amazing contrast to Harry's and Draco Malfoy's auras. They're red, you see. They've turned each other red."

Blaise smiled knowingly. "I heard you were an expert on auras."

"Oh yes I am," Luna said proudly. "Nobody seems to like it though. They think I am silly."

"I don't think you are silly," Blaise assured her as he avoided looking at her necklace made of Butterbeer corks and her radish earrings.

"You are very charming," she responded, still x-raying Blaise with her eyes, "and handsome."

He remained silent as she continued her examination of him.

"It is an extension of your aura, your ability to calm and placate others with your own composure and confidence."

It sounded like a compliment, but it wasn't. She was merely stating what she thought; her talent for voicing uncomfortable truths.

Blaise didn't mind. He let her go on.

"You are very good at using it, but sometimes you use it too much for your own gain, sometimes you manipulate people with it to get what you want," she considered. "That is why the Sorting Hat placed you in Slytherin."

"Yes," Blaise said, slightly amazed.

He remembered the sorting ceremony from his first year.

"_Plenty of charisma, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's confidence, oh my goodness, yes – and a talent to charm and influence, now that's interesting...so much like your mother, so clever and cunning – better be SLYTHERIN!"_

He realised that the tactic from here on was to tell Luna the truth. She would see right through his lies anyway.

"You are definitely not silly," he said. "You are very accurate in reading people."

"Thank you," she replied, "but I cannot figure out exactly why you are standing in this library aisle talking to me."

Blaise lowered his voice to a whisper and leaned closer to her. "I heard that you had an opinion on Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, something about their aura colours."

Pansy had given him this information, of course, even though she didn't know it was of any real value to him and his situation. She had simply been babbling in the Slytherin common room one night:

"_Loony Lovegood was going on about auras in Divination today. Apparently, I'm yellow because I don't like doing any work. Granger is green because she is clever. Draco and Potter are the same violent red because they want to screw each other..."_

Blaise did not find the information overly significant at that moment. He was simply smug that all signs seemed to point to the fact that Potter and Draco were meant to be together.

Luna agreed with him. "I have never seen anything quite like it," she said, "except perhaps for Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. You should have seen her red when he started dating Lavender Brown!"

"So you think Potter and Draco are in love with each other like Granger and Weasley?" Blaise asked eagerly.

"Oh yes," she answered, "they are most certainly soul mates."

She smiled serenely and retrieved another book from the shelf entitled 'Soul mates, Twin Flames and Spiritual Relationships'. She handed it to him.

"Did you know that the idea of soul mates actually originated with Muggles?" she asked him and he shook his head.

"A philosopher called Plato believed that humans originally consisted of four arms, four legs and two faces. A god named Zeus was threatened by their power and split them all in half, condemning us all to spend our lives trying to complete ourselves."

She opened the book in his hands to a picture of a human with four arms, four legs and two faces as she described. An irate man in a cloud-filled sky threw a lightning bolt, splitting the figure in half. Their face twisted in agony.

"That is why Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter are in so much pain," she explained, "they are having difficulty finding each other, even though they are so close by."

"How can we help them?" he asked.

She took the book from him and placed it back on the shelf. Her eyes were twinkling. "We can't," she said simply. "I have done the most I can do by warning them about their auras. Unfortunately, if they go on untended or unnoticed they will incur a significant amount of spiritual damage."

"But there must be a way to point them in the right direction?" he pressed and she gave him another all-knowing look.

"I saw what you did by kissing Harry in front of Draco," she said. "You only made the red worse for both of them."

"I didn't mean to," he assured her.

"But you meant to incense Draco. You knew what he was capable of," she replied, before looking to the books again. "It is not violence that best overcomes hate, nor vengeance that most certainly heals injury."

She wasn't accusing or placing blame on him like Granger had done. She was simply stating fact again, uncomfortable but true.

"I think you should let them be for awhile," she recommended, "concentrate on your own spirit. You are very self-aware already, however."

"Are you sure there isn't anything I can do?" Blaise asked again, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice.

Luna simply smiled at him, her eyes still sparkling. "They made progress on their relationship by themselves the first night back, didn't they? I am hopeful they will be able to find their way back to that place again and grow further from it."

_**To be continued**_

"_A philosopher called Plato believed that humans originally consisted of four arms, four legs and two faces. A god named Zeus was threatened by their power and split them all in half, condemning us all to spend our lives trying to complete ourselves."_

This is a quote in _Bones_ Season Five from an episode called 'The Bones on the Blue Line'.

"_**The human heart has hidden treasures, **_ _**In secret kept, in silence sealed; **_ _**The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures, **_ _**Whose charms were broken if revealed."**_

"_It is not violence that best overcomes hate, nor vengeance that most certainly heals injury."_

The lovely and beautiful Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte, of course. I know, I know, I'm a sap. You don't need to tell me. :)

I would like to hear your views on this chapter, however! Please review! :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Vindicated**

**by clothsofheaven24**

ooo

Thank you, **Oliver** for being my beta and curing my bad case of writer's block. This story would not have been possible without you.

**Disclaimer: **

This story was inspired by the song Vindicated by Dashboard Confessional.

You all know that I don't own the Harry Potter characters (JKR does). But if I did, something like this would happen to them...

ooo

"He went to the dance with Blaise Zabini, didn't you see?"

"They were kissing on the dance floor."

"Draco Malfoy grabbed at them and ripped them apart. He punched Zabini in the face."

"Then Potter had a falling out with Ron Weasley."

The whispers followed Harry wherever he went. They soared through the corridors, flittered in the bathrooms and echoed throughout the Great Hall.

He sat with Ron, Ginny and Dean at the Gryffindor table as they ate their dinner the evening after the dance. Harry kept his head ducked, hiding under Dean's tall frame; most eyes in the Great Hall were trying to find him.

"You'd think they'd have something better to talk about by now," Ron grumbled, stabbing at a piece of roast beef on his dinner plate with his fork.

"Get over it," Ginny snapped at him. "It's not your argument they're interested in."

"That's right," agreed Dean. "They're all speculating why Malfoy charged at Harry and Zabini like that."

"The most popular theory being he has it bad for you, Harry," Ginny said.

Harry didn't hear her. He was staring at his plate, swirling his mashed potatoes around with his fork.

He was immersed in thoughts about his kiss with Zabini. He remembered feeling enjoyment at the time, but when he looked back it didn't seem particularly special.

Zabini's body felt good, but not right. His mouth was nice, but not engaging. It was too forced and intentional. It was ordinary.

"Hannah Abbott thinks Harry and Malfoy hooked up and had a fight, and Harry was using Zabini to make him jealous," said Dean, laughing at the idea as he spoke.

"That's bloody ridiculous!" Ron cried, his fork missing his plate completely. It pierced the table with a loud crack and became stuck.

"You can't blame her for thinking that," Ginny reasoned. "I mean, there aren't too many explanations for a situation like that, are there?"

"Malfoy was probably angry with Zabini about something," Ron suggested as he tried to pull his fork out of the table, "something that had nothing to do with Harry whatsoever."

"Why did he call Harry a slut then?" Ginny challenged. "Remember what he said? _A kiss is a criminal offense the way you do it_."

"He's always calling Harry names," Ron said, still pulling at his fork, "bloody git."

"I think he likes Harry," Ginny maintained, rolling her eyes at Ron. "Luna said he wasn't angry until Zabini laid his hands on him."

"Oh don't you start with that stupid aura rubbish too," Ron groaned. He was saved the trouble of freeing his fork, as it disappeared along with all the other pieces of dinnerware.

Dessert items appeared in their place and he quickly reached for a piece of pecan pie.

Ginny scowled as Romilda Vane walked by looking imploringly at Harry.

"You have to be careful, Harry," she said in a concerned voice. "I overheard some girls talking. They're even more desperate since they found out you are gay. They'll be making even stronger love potions for you now."

"Tchuh," Harry made a small, dismissive sound. He still wasn't listening. He was thinking about Cho now. Her lips were too soft, not intentional enough. Her response to him was too weak and uncertain.

"That'd be right," Ron complained through a mouthful of pie, "the only reason we let Harry go with Zabini was to keep those girls at bay, but it's gone and made them worse."

"Girls will always be all over Harry," Dean said, wrapping an arm over Ginny's shoulder.

She nodded in agreement. "Boys too now," she added.

"Bloody hell," said Ron with a groan. "It was bad enough with just the girls."

"The sooner he finds a boyfriend, the better," Ginny assured him.

"What blokes are there though?" Ron asked. He wasn't aware of anyone else in the school that was gay except for Harry.

"Loads," Ginny replied.

She laughed when Ron and Dean dropped their jaws at her answer.

"What?"

"Who?"

"Well," she considered, thinking for a moment, "there's Zabini, of course, and Malfoy-"

"The Slytherins are not appropriate options," Ron reminded her.

"Right," she said, "there's Justin Finch-Fletchley and Zacharias Smith from Hufflepuff. Ernie Macmillan went to the dance with Daphne Greengrass, but I reckon he's bent."

Ron scrunched up his nose. "Ernie and Finch-Fletchley are snobs and Smith is a total prat."

"Anthony Goldstein from Ravenclaw is an alright bloke," Ginny mused. "He has a great arse."

Ron pretended to throw up over the table and Dean looked displeased by the comment.

Ginny ignored them. "What do you think, Harry?"

Harry wasn't thinking about Anthony Goldstein's arse. He was thinking about Draco Malfoy's mouth.

His kiss wasn't soft or weak and it certainly wasn't intended.

Harry couldn't remember how it started. All he could remember was how he couldn't resist it.

As his mouth closed over Malfoy's, Malfoy yielded, but in yielding held him prisoner. Even knowing it, Harry was helpless.

Malfoy's hands were hot on his skin, his body molten. Harry could no longer be certain of who led and who followed.

Malfoy's body was pliant and unresisting, but Harry felt his demand. His mouth was eager and willing, but Harry tasted his strength.

Taste – Malfoy had such a taste. It still lingered on Harry's tongue, spun in his head.

"Ginny's barking."

Harry blinked.

He wasn't sitting at the table anymore. He was walking into the Entrance Hall with Ron. He had been too engrossed in his memory to notice his own moments.

"Dean only agrees with everything she says to get in her pants," Ron continued. He held a treacle tart in one hand, waving his arms animatedly as he spoke. "What a git."

Harry nodded, but was only half listening. He was spared the effort of contributing verbally, as Hermione suddenly appeared, storming down the stairs.

"There you are!" she yelled at Ron. "We have a meeting with the Gryffindor prefects in two minutes!"

Ron groaned loudly. "I have to do Slughorn's essay," he said, going to take a bite from his tart.

Hermione scowled and snatched the tart from him. "You've had all week to start that!"

She shoved the tart at Harry, grabbed Ron and pulled him back into the Great Hall.

Harry watched them leave before beginning his ascent to Gryffindor Tower.

He had barely started Slughorn's essay either and he wasn't looking forward to it.

He walked slowly, dragging his feet up the stairs and nibbling at the treacle tart.

ooo

Draco sighed with relief as he left McGonagall's office. She had been ruthless in punishing him.

First, he had to Transfigure fifty hedgehogs from her fourth year class back into pincushions, and then she gave him lines.

His hands hurt from needle pricks and writer's cramp. He couldn't wait to return to his dormitory and drink a large glass of Firewhisky.

He needed to finish his essay for Slughorn also. He had written the first half, describing the characteristics and properties of Amortentia itself. All he had left to do was the section on its effect.

Given the state of his hands, Draco decided he would use a Quick-Quotes Quill for the remainder of his essay.

Walking down to his dormitory, he began to consider what he would write.

_Amortentia causes a powerful infatuation or obsession in the drinker._

_The effects of the potion on a person are instantaneous, with the person who drank the potion appearing pale and sickly and becoming obsessed with the maker._

_They may also become excited or dangerously unstable towards others._

_An antidote can be made to stop these effects._

Draco fastened his pace. He wanted to get to his dormitory while the words for the essay were still clear in his head.

_Amortentia doesn't create actual love, but it does cause a powerful infatuation or obsession. _

_The amount of infatuation or obsession is dependent on time, as the effects of the potion strengthen as the potion sits and awaits consumption. _

Draco continued to hurry. He rushed down the stairs and turned a corner too quickly.

He collided with someone who was going equally fast as him in the opposite direction. They landed in a haphazard heap on the floor, Draco on top of the other.

"Get off me!" the person yelped, waving their arms and legs hysterically in an attempt to break free.

Slightly dizzy and confused, Draco looked down at them, ready to flash his Prefect badge and punish. However, when he saw who it was he simply gaped.

Harry Potter lay writhing beneath him, his green eyes wide and his glasses askew.

"Get off me, Malfoy!" he said again, trying to push Draco off him. "I need to get to her!"

Draco didn't move. "Get to who?" he asked suspiciously.

The shock of the fall had worn off, but when Potter tried to shift under him, the pressure of his body against his own astounded Draco all over again.

"Romilda Vane!" Harry cried, as if the answer was obvious. "I love her!"

Draco stared at the thrashing Potter, whose face now looked incredibly desperate and a sickly shade of white, and fought a strong desire to laugh.

A part of him – a younger part of himself that still held on to childhood rivalries and enmity – was quiet keen on the idea of letting Potter go and watching him run amok until the effects of the love potion he had obviously been slipped wore off.

But on the other hand, Romilda Vane would most certainly take advantage of Potter in his drug-induced state.

An image appeared in his mind's eye: she wound her arms and legs around Potter and he happily complied, hastily bringing their mouths together.

It bred another image out of itself.

Once again the picture of Blaise and Potter kissing came swimming out of a dark place.

The pairs of legs and arms seemed to writhe and multiply, clothed and naked, and the intent unseeing faces fed on one another until they blurred and became one, and turned into everyone who ogled Potter.

A white-hot wire of jealousy ran up him and then dropped down to his heart. He instinctively increased his weight of Potter, intentionally pinning him to the ground.

Potter fought back with every ounce of strength, breathless and fearless in his drugged state. "Let me go! I need her!"

"Yeah, she needs you too," said Draco, thinking fast. "She's not in Gryffindor Tower, you know."

Potter stopped moving and stared up at Draco in bewilderment. "Where is she? Is she okay?"

"She's fine, Potter," Draco answered convincingly. "She's in the Slytherin dungeons."

Potter looked confused, but believing. "What is she doing down there?"

"She's friends with Daphne and Pansy," Draco made up wildly. "They like to hang out in the dungeons."

"I didn't know that," Potter said worriedly. "I better become friends with Daphne and Pansy if I want to be with Romilda."

"Good thinking," Draco agreed. "Why don't you go down to them now? I can let you in the Slytherin common room and show you where Romilda is."

"That sounds wonderful!" said Potter excitedly, beginning to squirm under Draco again.

"Alright," Draco replied, slowly releasing Potter and standing up. "Let's go."

Potter bounded to his feet and grinned broadly.

The common room was mostly empty when they entered. Everyone was still in the Great Hall finishing their dinner.

Potter fell into the room, stumbling over his own feet in his haste.

"Where is she?" he asked anxiously when he realised no one was there.

"She must be in the dormitories," Draco told him confidently.

Potter bounded to his feet again and followed Draco into one of the rooms.

Draco closed the door to his dormitory and cast a silent Locking Charm on it, so Potter couldn't get out while he was still under the influence of the potion.

"She's not here!" Harry cried dejectedly.

"She'll be along soon," Draco assured him, opening his trunk.

He located his potion kit and found the antidote he needed.

"Let's have a drink in the meantime to calm your nerves," he suggested, transferring the potion into a glass for Potter and pouring a glass of Firewhisky for himself.

"Brilliant," said Potter eagerly, and he drank the antidote down quickly.

Draco watched him expectantly. For a moment, Potter grinned at him, and then very slowly his face fell and his grin vanished. His skin returned to its usual colour, but his expression changed to one of utmost horror and humiliation.

"Feeling better, Potter?" Draco asked with a chuckle.

Potter simply blinked at him.

Taking two love potions in two days had certainly taken its toll. He leaned against Draco's bedpost as if he was going to faint.

"Here," Draco said, handing him a glass of Firewhisky now, "you need a pick-me-up."

Potter quickly accepted. He threw the Firewhisky into his mouth and swallowed it all at once.

He had never drunk Firewhisky before, choosing to mainly stick with Butterbeer, and was not prepared for its burn.

He spluttered uncontrollably, cupping his throat.

Draco looked amused and took a casual sip from his own glass. "Graceful and refined as always, Potter."

"Shut it," Potter gasped between splutters.

"That's not a very nice way to thank me," Draco said, pretending to sound offended. "You would be smothered by Romilda Vane right now if I hadn't decided to help you."

"You didn't need to help me," Potter snapped, quickly becoming angry and irritated.

"You didn't need to help me with your article in the _Daily Prophet_," Draco snapped back, becoming angry also. "I guess I don't owe you anything now."

"I'm glad I cleared your conscience," Potter sarcastically retorted. "I'm glad we're even."

"Oh we're not even," said Draco with a scowl, "nowhere near. You kissed my best friend."

The accusation made Potter more furious, he rounded on Draco, separating the gap between them. "He kissed me," he spat out.

"I didn't see you complaining," Draco growled, stepping forward and bringing them even closer.

"I don't know what your problem with it was," Potter said, meeting Draco's steps with his own.

He stumbled a little on his final step. He wasn't drunk, but the Firewhisky had taken some affect on him. He felt lightheaded, but confident. Malfoy wasn't going to beat him in this fight, he decided.

Draco's expression altered from fury to reluctant amusement. "You're totally bombed."

Potter ignored the statement. "If I upset you so much by kissing Zabini, why didn't you punch me instead of him?"

Draco's amusement faded. "Maybe I was going to punch you," he replied, no longer able to step forward; their faces were millimetres apart. "McGonagall came in and stopped me before I could."

"She's not stopping you now," Potter said, glaring into Draco's eyes, challenging him. "You could punch me for it here. I'm weak from the love potion and the Firewhisky. It would be easy."

Draco was unwavering. He glared back into Potter's strong, green eyes. "I don't want to punch you anymore," he hissed. "I'm over it."

"I didn't ask for Zabini to kiss me, but I didn't mind," Potter lied, still trying to bait him. "He was good at it."

He wanted to tease Malfoy the way he teased him. He wanted Malfoy to obsess about the kiss they shared at the lake as much as he did. He wanted to be Malfoy's equal again, where they would both demand from and yield to each other.

The Firewhisky danced in his head, not enough to make him irrational, enough to make him brave.

Draco could feel Potter's warm breath against his lips as he spoke and the feeling of white-hot jealousy returned to him.

"I thought of you when he kissed me," Potter continued. "It was very rude of me – or of you, I'm not sure which. Perhaps I'll think of Zabini if you kiss me now."

"The hell you will." The white-hot heat became a scalding red burn. Draco pulled Potter against him, teetering on the edge of defeat.

Potter let his head fall back. "Try me," he invited.

"Potter – The hell with all of it!"

Draco drove Potter backwards and slammed him against the dungeon wall. He had lost, given into temptation, but he didn't care.

The need for Potter was raging, overpowering, taking over the control he'd been master of for as long as he could remember.

Helplessly, he crashed his mouth into Potter's, desperately searching for his tongue with his own.

Potter answered the need immediately, sliding his tongue against Draco's, pushing, taunting and teasing relentlessly.

Potter's body was hard and muscular, and Draco grabbed at it with wanton abandon.

Potter's hands found their way to Draco's hair. He tangled his fingers in the soft, blond strands and pulled Draco in closer, deepening the kiss.

It was all hell smoke and thunder.

Needs ripped through Draco – needs he understood, needs he'd felt before, but there was something else, something stronger, greedier.

Potter's tongue tempted and tormented his own and he saw nothing, nothing but the blur of raging colours that were passion.

Draco's erection was immediate, and he soon felt a bulge in Potter's pants press against his own.

He pulled away from the kiss breathing heavily, overtaken by the sudden urge to taste more of him.

Potter whimpered at the abrupt loss of contact. It turned into a soft moan when Draco lowered his head and buried his face in Potter's neck.

The wild, sweet scent of Potter's skin seeped into him, arousing, never soothing, until he thought he'd never smell anything else.

He flicked his tongue and lapped hungrily at the place between Potter's neck and shoulder before giving it a long, hard suck.

Potter's moan turned guttural. "Mmmm, Blaise."

The sound of Potter moaning another's name ignited a dangerous fire in Draco. It spread rapidly throughout his body.

"Damn you, Potter," he rasped, pulling his mouth away. "That's not my name and you know it."

"That's not my name either," Potter remarked, breathing heavily. "It's only my family name."

"Very well," Draco replied, grabbing him by the front of his shirt, pulling him away from the wall and propelling him onto his bed, "_Harry_."

Harry fell to the bed with a soft thud and moaned with delight when Draco landed on top of him, kissing him again.

Between kisses, they ripped at each other's clothes. Soon Harry's flesh was against Draco's flesh, and everything was hot.

Fires and flames, a furnace of passion engulfed Draco, driving him beyond control, beyond reason.

He groped blindly between their bodies, still intent on keeping their mouths locked together, until he found Harry's erection, hot and hard.

Draco wrapped his hand around it and began to stroke rhythmically, occasionally rubbing the head with his thumb.

Harry groaned loudly and bucked his hips involuntarily.

Their kiss became a matter of scraped mouths and clashing teeth, messy and imperative, until Draco broke it to bury his face in Harry's neck again.

He nibbled and bit this time, almost certainly leaving marks and making Harry whimper, half in fear of the unexplored, half in delight of the exploration.

Through his dazed senses Harry still felt a struggle – a storm, a fury. Then he grasped at Draco's hair again and moaned evilly.

"Oh, _Blaise_."

Draco's head was clouded with passion, but he didn't skip a beat. His head snapped up and stared into Harry's eyes. They were glazed over, but challenging, still daring him.

"You'll pay for that, _Potter_," he promised, trailing wet kisses down his chest and stomach, his eyes locked firmly on Harry's, daring back.

"I'll give you one more chance," he said, pausing with his mouth millimetres away from Harry's cock, purposefully breathing on it heavily.

Harry gasped and writhed beneath him, but his resolve was still firm. "B-B-Blaise," he choked out.

"No," Draco said firmly, "you know that's not my name."

He used his hand to guide Harry's erection into his mouth.

With his eyes still firmly locked on Harry's, he coiled his tongue around the firm, curved end, sucking gently. Harry closed his eyes and threw his head back against the mattress.

Draco smiled inside himself and stretched his mouth wider to accommodate another inch of Harry's flesh.

Harry began panting loudly above him. He fisted his fingers through Draco's hair, begging him not to stop.

Draco decided it was the perfect time to stop.

He hollowed his cheeks and gave one hard final suck, pulling back until his mouth lost contact.

"What's my name, Harry?" he asked, still holding the base of Harry's erection tightly.

Harry trembled in defeat beneath him. He decided to let himself go. He could think of nothing but Draco and the way he touched him. He didn't lie or tease this time.

"D – D – D – _OhGod_."

"Close," Draco said smirking, "but it is not my name."

He let go of Harry completely and walked over to his trunk.

He returned quickly with a tube of lubricant.

"Try again," he said, standing at the foot of the bed and staring down at Harry expectantly.

"P-Please," Harry stuttered, "D – D –D – "

"Nope," Draco said, grabbing Harry's ankles and parting his legs slightly, "that's not it either."

He coated his fingers in the lubricant and bent over Harry, ghosting hot breath teasingly over his body.

He heard Harry groan throatily as he slid a wet fingertip along the tight crack of his tensed cheeks.

The fingertip didn't push in to find the hot interior. It stroked the surface skin at an exasperatingly slow pace, and Harry instinctively spread his legs wider.

Draco added another finger to his caressing and Harry thrust upwards, wanting to open himself wider, whimpering in desperation.

Draco answered his request. He slowly buried his two fingers deep into Harry, but removed them quickly and completely soon after.

"What's my name, Harry?" he demanded.

Harry whimpered again, but did his best to answer coherently.

"D – D – Draco!"

Draco smiled triumphantly, slowly inserting the fingers again. He bent down low, his face millimetres from Harry's groin again.

"Say it again," he demanded, even more harshly from before. He quickly removed his fingers again and Harry visibly shuddered, balling his hands and fisting the bed sheets.

"D – Draco!"

It came out in a low, guttural moan this time. Draco resisted the urge to moan himself.

Harry looked incredible lying on his bed. His brilliant green eyes were the same colour as the sheets he was twisting with his writhing body and hands.

"That's right," Draco replied, inserting his fingers for a third time and taking Harry's cock in his mouth again.

Harry was wanton. He humped himself against Draco's mouth and reached under himself with both hands to prise his buttocks apart, begging through his actions for more penetration.

Draco did not make him wait much longer. He added a third finger and thrust all the way inside as far as he could go.

He set a slow but steady pace, making sure that every press inwards with his fingers went as deep as he could go.

Harry lost all sense of self-control. He rode Draco's fingers as hard as he could.

He moaned in disappointment when Draco withdrew, leaving Harry soaking wet with saliva and pre come.

He watched impatiently as Draco retrieved more lubricant from the tube, massaging it into his own erection before adding more Harry's hole.

"Say it again," he barely whispered, leaning over Harry and brushing the edge of his ear with his lips.

There was no hesitation this time.

"_Draco_!" Harry bellowed in arousal and it was Draco's turn to lose control all over again.

In one swift movement, he grabbed Harry's ankles, flung his legs over his shoulders and started to ease himself into Harry.

Harry wiggled his hips uncontrollably as he felt the press of Draco's wide, wet cock against his tight ring of muscles.

Their eyes locked as Draco pushed himself as far as possible into Harry, and they both exhaled heavily the same time.

Harry was quickly and totally boneless, aroused to desperation by simple surrender.

He moaned Draco's name again and arched his back, urging Draco to start moving.

Draco started pounding insistently into Harry and Harry responded by thrusting back against each of Draco's movements and pumping his own cock in his hands, moaning and grunting as he got closer to release.

Draco gripped Harry's legs and Harry gripped the bed sheets to brace himself as Draco hammered into him with deep thrusts and forceful efforts.

Harry melted underneath him. Words, low and harsh with desire, tumbled from mouth.

He didn't last long. He threw his head back as he came, screaming Draco's name and shooting his thick stream over his own chest.

Draco soon followed, shuddering into Harry and becoming boneless as well.

_**To be continued**_

Well, there it is –my first _real _sex scene.

Sure, Harry and Draco have gotten it on in my stories in the past, but I have always been very subtle and nondescript, leaving it to your imaginations. ;)

This time I had a go at making it a bit more graphic.

Tell me what you think! Please review! :)


	7. Epilogue

**Vindicated**

**by clothsofheaven24**

ooo

Thank you, **Oliver** for being my beta and curing my bad case of writer's block. This story would not have been possible without you.

**Disclaimer:**

This story was inspired by the song Vindicated by Dashboard Confessional.

You all know that I don't own the Harry Potter characters (JKR does). But if I did, something like this would happen to them...

ooo

White light poured in through the arched windows of Hogwarts castle, filling the corridors and classrooms with pure morning sunlight.

Luna Lovegood walked the journey from the Ravenclaw common room to the Great Hall with bare feet; her shoes had been stolen again.

The stone floor was cold on her feet, but she did not seem to mind or notice. Her head was bowed as she read from a book, hardly observing where she was going.

A large, tight-knit group of her Ravenclaw peers overtook her, muttering and sniggering at her expense.

Luna did not pay them any attention. She simply turned a page over and continued to read.

"Lost your shoes again, Loony?" someone from the group called over their shoulder at her.

The others laughed in a similar, deliberate way.

Luna looked up from her book and smiled at them briefly before turning back to her reading.

She knew they had hidden her shoes behind the statue of Boris the Bewildered.

It wasn't by telepathy or an Inner Eye that she knew this. The group had simply made fun of her for reading her copy of _The Quibbler_ upside down and accidently putting her shoes on the wrong feet the other day.

The idea of hiding said shoes behind a statue of a wizard with his gloves on the wrong hands appealed to their mean sense of humour.

They have crystal auras, you see. They constantly change colours to match and conform to those of the people around them, mostly concerned with popularity and the approval of others.

They most certainly weren't compatible with her magenta aura. She did not mind that she was a loner, unique in every way.

She believed in herself and her unconventional ideas. She did not care about what other people thought of her.

_What they think of me is none of my business_, she told herself as she turned into the Great Hall, resolving to retrieve her shoes after breakfast.

As she made her way over to the Ravenclaw table, she was distracted by a flurry of bright orange.

Ron Weasley had whipped out of his chair and was squaring himself up to Draco Malfoy.

Luna, becoming curious, changed her direction and began to head over to the dispute.

_At the Gryffindor table..._

"Where were you last night?" Ron asked Harry for the twentieth time that morning.

"You weren't in the common room or in your dormitory when we got back from our meeting," Hermione joined in, persistent also.

Harry ignored them and eyed the food in front of him. "Pass the kippers please."

"Did you even finish your essay?" Hermione continued to press, irritably reaching for the kippers as he had requested.

Before she touched the plate, however, something landed on it with a small, soft thump.

"Here's your shirt, Potter," came the cool voice of Draco Malfoy.

Hermione looked behind Harry to where Malfoy was standing, expecting to find a large sneer on his face.

She was shocked when she saw he was grinning instead.

This detail seemed to go unnoticed by Ron, who jumped out of his chair and looked like he was ready to leap across the table and attack Malfoy to the floor.

"Not this again," he spat angrily. "That shirt could not possibly be Harry's this time."

"Still think you know every single item of clothing Potter owns, I see," Draco quipped, grin not fading.

He was moving closer towards Harry now, Hermione noticed. Harry noticed as well, but didn't seem to mind.

Hermione blinked. Was Harry even leaning towards Malfoy?

Her question was answered when Malfoy put his hand on Harry's shoulder and Harry didn't flinch. He grinned in the same way as Malfoy and looked up at him happily.

"What the-" Ron began, but Luna Lovegood had arrived, standing uncomfortably close to him.

"I thought it was your hair, Ron," she said vaguely, "but I was mistaken."

"Luna, we're kind of in the middle of some-"

"I'm glad your auras have been fixed," she said, turning to Harry and Malfoy. "They are back to orange again."

Their grins did not fade when their eyes meet with hers. Ron and Hermione, on the other hand, were frowning in uncertainty.

"You thought I was crazy at first," she continued, her radish earrings swinging slightly as she nodded her head during her recollection, "but I knew intercourse would begin the healing process. Your auras really were becoming dangerous with all the sexual tension, you know."

"Are you saying they had sex?" exclaimed Ron, his face almost becoming a darker red than Harry's and Malfoy's previous auras.

Luna did not answer him. She merely smiled back at Harry and Malfoy.

"Thanks, Luna," Harry said to her. "I guess we should have listened to you from the start."

"It would have saved us a lot of hassle," Draco agreed.

"No problem, Harry, Draco," she replied, turning away from them and leaving for the Ravenclaw table.

Ron and Hermione were gaping in shock; Romilda Vane and her friends were staring enviously at Malfoy's hand on Harry's shoulder; Harry and Malfoy were still grinning happily; and Blaise Zabini caught her eye from his position at the Slytherin table. He smiled and gave her a quick wink.

She wasn't the most popular witch at Hogwarts, and she was constantly being teased for her eccentric ideas and beliefs. Everyone thought she was stupid and silly for having them.

Harry and Malfoy did not believe her when she first told them they were compatible, and now they were happily together on the other side of the room.

When she reached the Ravenclaw table, she couldn't help but smile with a small amount of smugness. She knew that compared to her peers she was strange and unusual, but today, thanks to Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, she was completely vindicated.

_**The End**_

Well, that's the end of this fic. I hope you enjoyed it. Most importantly, I hope you enjoyed this epilogue more than the epilogue in _The Deathly Hallows_. Lol.

I wrote it for Oliver, who reminded me that we should all try to be a little more like Luna; kind, unique and indifferent to what other people think of us.

However, I would still love to hear what you thought of my story, so **please review**! :)


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